Doubt
by nancy fan
Summary: Ned misses his flight, missing Nancy's birthday in the process. In the second instance Ned makes his flight, arriving on time. How a seemingly inconsequential event could lead Nancy's life in two, completely different directions. Nancy/Ned, Nancy/Frank
1. The Heartbreak

**This story is inspired partly by Sliding Doors and The Post-birthday world by Lionel Shriver. To those reading The Awakening, I'm hoping to have a chapter out in the next week or so. Enjoy!**

**Saturday, 16****th**** February 2008, 6.45 p.m.**

"This has to qualify as the worst birthday ever," Nancy sighed irritably as she collapsed onto the bed, feeling only a momentary twinge of guilt for disturbing the neatly arranged mound of cushions and pillows on the deep purple bedspread. Though her mood had been progressively darkening all evening, Nancy had to admit the hotel room, a token of appreciation from a much gratified client, was outrageously luxurious. The decor was plush and tasteful, the standard-issue bathrobe impossibly fluffy, and the marble bathroom held such a vast array of beauty products that even Bess couldn't help but be impressed. Not that she had much opportunity to sleep in the room, Nancy though wryly, lying spread eagled on the bed, her bare limbs gleaming from her shower, her red-blonde hair pinned up tightly in rollers. In fact, over the previous three days, sleep was one luxury the case didn't afford her and Nancy's sum total of a measly twelve hours' sleep had been mostly snatched in the cramped confines of their rented car.

Reaching for the remote, Nancy flicked absently through the television channels, too hyped up and over energized to focus on anything for more than a minute, finally conceding defeat and tossing it dejectedly on the floor. At the sudden beep of her phone, Nancy's heart soared, her excitement evaporating almost instantaneously when she saw the message was from Bess. Ned still hadn't called. Much anticipated birthday plans, made excitedly over the phone, now seemed doomed. Her anger intensifying with every passing moment, Nancy reached for her moisturizer, rubbing the lotion into her skin with a sudden vicious ferocity.

Over the years, Ned had slowly and reluctantly grown resigned to her passion for detective work. With that acceptance had come an apathy of sorts that had set in so slowly, Nancy had barely noticed it. He rarely got involved in her cases anymore, rarely complained or got angry even if a case interfered with holiday plans or dates. Where was her fierce protector, her white knight, who would swoop down in a moment's notice to help her or save her at the first hint of menace or danger? It wasn't that he didn't care about her; Nancy knew Ned loved her, but she suspected this was something he had carefully cultivated over the years, a form of self-preservation, as if anticipating some terrible fate would befall her. Nancy was in her final year at Cornell and Ned was hundreds of miles away, swamped by the demands of his hectic job in Chicago, and the pair had barely seen each other, much less spent any actual quality time together. And the distance between them wasn't confined solely to the physical either, Nancy reflected miserably, gratefully unpinning the unpleasantly tight rollers. Something had crept into Ned's voice lately, every time they spoke, something he always seemed on the verge of broaching but never actually discussing, which proved both horribly frustrating and disconcerting for Nancy. Too many times, she had thought of forcing the issue, demanding answers, but Nancy never did, afraid of what he might say. So the two of them continued the charade, confining their conversations to the mundane and skirting around what neither one of them was willing to say.

Picking up her phone, Nancy had the sudden, almost irresistible urge to call Ned, to hear his voice, to have him reassure her that everything was okay, but dismissed that thought almost as soon as it entered her head. It was her birthday, for crying out loud, and he hadn't even bothered to call her. No, Nancy had her pride, and hell would freeze over before she'd make the first move.

Discarding her usual pink lipgloss, Nancy rummaged through her makeup bag, reaching for the darker shade of lipstick that Bess was always trying to convince her to use. Pressing her lips together, she eyed the bottle of champagne angrily. In an earlier burst of optimism, she had ordered the bottle from room service, thinking they could skip dinner completely and take advantage of the hotel room and the precious time together. Now lying abandoned in the bucket, the ice turned to slush, it just served to remind her of the disastrous wreck the night had become. Nancy withdrew the bottle with a fierce snap of her wrist, popping the cork noisily, the champagne hissing angrily, spewing over the side and landing in a frothy mess on the rich, purple carpet. Pouring it into the glass, Nancy took a furious gulp of the liquid, willing it to claim even a little of her anger and frustration, if only for a moment or so.

An hour later, her red-blonde curls spilling loosely around her shoulders, still fidgety and angry, Nancy sat perched at the hotel bar, a bright pink cocktail at her elbow. Hotel bars were depressing as a rule and this one was no different; the atmosphere was staid and stuffy and the decor uncomfortably generic, a Mecca for lone businessmen shuffling through papers and tapping away on laptops, at a loss with nothing better to do. Taking a long sip of her drink, Nancy shuddered slightly, feeling slightly nauseated and dizzy from the alcohol.

"Nancy, is that you?"

Hearing the familiar voice behind her, Nancy whipped around, a broad smile appearing on her face when she saw a rather bruised and battered Frank Hardy making his way towards her.

"What are you doing here? I thought you and Ned had some big birthday plans tonight."

"Yeah, we did," Nancy sighed, crossing her long tanned legs, not missing the way Frank's gaze followed the movement appreciatively. "But he hasn't shown up, so I'm here on my own," she shrugged, taking another angry gulp of her drink.

"Hey, take it easy, Nan," Frank advised her firmly, pulling himself onto the bar stool beside her. "It's only eight o' clock. Have you even eaten anything yet?"

"Now where's the fun in that?" Nancy joked lightly, though her stomach did roil at the thought. A stale muffin eaten earlier that day was her last vague memory of food. She was unable to suppress a smile as Frank ordered a beer for himself and a chicken sandwich for her. He really was a sweet guy and it was nice to be fussed over for a change. "So what's the deal with you, anyway?" Nancy asked curiously, signaling at the barman for another cocktail and inwardly smiling at the disapproving glance on Frank's face. "I thought you two were heading home."

"Joe has to spend the night in the hospital, they want to run a few more tests," he replied, running a hand wearily through his dark hair.

"Is he okay?" Nancy asked, her blue eyes widening in concern. "I mean, I know he got hit pretty hard, but I've seen him get a lot worse."

"Yeah well, let's just say the nurses were hot and I think he may have over-exaggerated his symptoms slightly," Frank laughed, beginning to relax as the beer took hold. "So the choice between crashing here or sleeping on a hard plastic chair at the hospital wasn't exactly a difficult one to make. And it looks like I get to save the birthday girl in the bargain," he added with a playful wink.

"You sure did," Nancy sighed, stirring her cocktail unenthusiastically. "Now Frank, I hope you feel like drinking because by my calculations, you're at least five drinks behind me."

Innumerable drinks and countless shots later, Nancy's mind was clouded and confused, a sticky hazed fog to which she had gratefully succumbed. Her once-bouncy curls now hung limp and lifeless around her shoulders, her makeup was smudged, and her dress exposed a dangerous amount of flesh. Shaking her head to clear it, Nancy glanced around the bar, suddenly noticing the soft tinkling of the piano had given way to more generic hotel music and the room was unsettlingly quiet. The lone barman looked increasingly impatient, darting irritable glances at the pair and noisily clearing glasses and moving chairs as if daring them to stay.

"You okay, Nan?" Frank asked in concern, placing his hand on her arm to steady her.

"I'm fine," Nancy replied uncertainly, taking a hesitant sip of her drink, nausea and dejection pooling unpleasantly in her stomach.

"This has been a really great night. You're a lot of fun, Nan." Frank laughed, risking a quick glance at the barman who shot a disapproving glance at the unruly state of the couple.

"I know, I am fun, right?" Nancy agreed determinedly, taking a long gulp from her lipstick-smeared glass. "Ned doesn't think so, though," she sighed despairingly, her dark mood threatening to overwhelm her again. "I mean, we were supposed to have this amazing romantic night and he hasn't even bothered to call me," she shrugged, pushing her cell phone away harshly, the phone turned off in an earlier fit of rage. "What does that say about me?" Her voice shook slightly as she struggled to regain control of her emotions.

"It doesn't say anything about you, it just tells me he's nuts. I mean, look at you," he added softly, his brown eyes gazing at her sympathetically.

"I look like a mess," Nancy couldn't help but smile, swiping quickly at her wet eyes before her mascara could mark a watery trail down her cheeks, smearing evidence of the disastrous night on her face.

"You look beautiful, Nan," Frank whispered gently, reaching out and hesitantly placing an arm around her shoulders. "You're an amazing person and he's a fool if he can't see it."

"Really?" Nancy asked, unconvinced, dabbing delicately at her hopelessly smudged eyes, though she smiled at his words.

"Really," he confirmed, neither one noticing the distance closing between them until suddenly his lips were on hers, his arms pulling her close and claiming her with such a fierce possessiveness that Nancy couldn't help but respond.

Blurred with alcohol, as through a haze they kissed passionately, his fingers tangled in her hair, his hands tugging at her dress.

"Okay, that's it, I've had it."

At the sigh of frustration from behind them and the furious banging of glasses, Nancy and Frank disengaged themselves reluctantly, uncomfortable under the watchful disapproval of the barman.

"Go upstairs and finish whatever it is you're doing, or leave and do it somewhere else, I don't really care, but it's almost two o'clock in the morning and believe me, I'm not being paid nearly enough to have to watch this."

Giggling, Nancy stood up, twirling unsteadily on her high heels, the purple skirt of her dress flowing around her. "What are we going to do now?" she pouted, taking one last sip of her vodka. "I really don't want to go to bed."

"You don't have to," Frank smiled coyly, taking her hand in his and pulling her toward the elevator. He pushed Nancy against the wall and kissed her deeply as soon as the doors slid shut. "The night doesn't have to end yet, now does it?" he whispered softly in her ear, a pleasant shiver spreading up Nancy's spine as she felt his breath hot on her neck.

Her response a soft nod, Nancy acquiesced as Frank pulled her into his arms. He crushed her against him with renewed force, her legs wrapped around his waist as he edged his way out of the elevator, before he suddenly stopped, pulling away mid-kiss.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Even though it was distorted by shock and anger, Nancy didn't need to look behind her to identify the voice.

It belonged to Ned.


	2. The Perfect Day

**Saturday, 16th February 2008, 5.15 p.m.**

Her red-blonde curls tucked untidily into the collar of her coat in a rather futile attempt to shield her hair from the biting wind, Nancy shifted anxiously from foot to foot, alternating between obsessively checking her phone and darting overeager glances down the street, searching for sign of Ned. Having not seen her boyfriend in weeks, Nancy's impatience was understandable; her desire to see Ned, to spend time with him, had grown to almost unbearable proportions in the past few days. The weather was as volatile as it was unpredictable, the sky a vast contradiction of bright blue peering through stormy black, as likely to bestow a sunny, glorious radiance as wreak a wet and miserable revenge. Nancy shoved her hands fiercely into the warmth of her pockets, hoping for a reprieve, however temporary, from the icy cold. Suddenly spotting Ned's broad frame emerging from a cab, Nancy had to command herself not to run over to him, reluctant to make a scene on the busy city street. Even so, she was unable to resist the urge to jump into his arms as he hurried over her.

"I've missed you so much, Nan," Ned murmured lovingly, the couple clinging to each other unashamedly, unmindful of their watchful, rather amused audience.

"I've missed you too," Nancy sighed happily, enclosed in the warmth of his embrace. Feeling his lips suddenly warm on hers, Nancy closed her eyes contentedly, melting into the familiar tenderness of his touch. "Dinner's not until eight, right?" Nancy asked with a suggestive smile, laughing as Ned pulled her in for another kiss. His grip on her was surprisingly possessive, as if demonstrating just how much he had longed and yearned for her.

"Right," he returned with a knowing smile, his hands straying down her back, sending a pleasant shiver up Nancy's spine. "And what do you suggest we do with the time?" he whispered softly, gooseflesh rising on her skin at the feel of his breath, hot against her neck.

"What do you think?" Nancy laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the hotel.

The door closed behind them, Nancy and Ned resumed their makeout session with a fervor, kissing passionately, Nancy tugging off his shirt impatiently and Ned deftly working on her zipper, the purple dress falling to the floor with a flourish.

"God, I've missed you," he murmured, pushing her hair out of her face and kissing her deeply.

"I know," Nancy sighed contentedly, as Ned's hands ran appreciatively over her bare skin.

Sweeping her into his arms in a grand gesture, Ned laid her gently on the bed, smiling as Nancy reached up and pulled him down to her, kissing him gently. "I love you so much, Ned Nickerson," she whispered softly, pulling away for a moment, gazing intently into his eyes.

"I love you too, Nan," he replied heatedly as he grasped her in a fierce embrace, and Nancy succumbed willingly to his advances.

xxxxx

The twinkling night sky obliterated by a heavy blanket of clouds, Nancy and Ned wandered hand in hand out of the hotel, their faces bright with the excitement of being together after the long weeks of separation. It was barely eight o'clock and the streets were crowded with the last of the shoppers, shuffling wearily towards cabs, oversized bags swinging triumphantly from their arms, and the first of the night's revelers, heavily made-up and tottering on dangerously high stiletto heels, eagerly anticipating the night's fun ahead.

"I'm so glad you're here," Nancy smiled adoringly at her boyfriend, kicking a silver shoe aimlessly at the last dregs of the winter snowfall, the muddied slush gathered forlornly in piles by the sidewalk. "How was the flight?"

"Absolute hell," Ned admitted ruefully before pulling Nancy close to him and stealing a frozen kiss. "Although, having said that, you're lucky I'm here at all, Nan. I swear, I was about two seconds from missing the damn flight altogether, the traffic was crazy."

"Lucky, huh," Nancy retorted jokingly, squirming out of Ned's arms as he tickled her playfully. "The way I see it you're the lucky one, Nickerson. Do you have any idea how much pain I'd have inflicted on you if you had stood me up?"

"I think I do," he laughed, enclosing Nancy in his arms and pressing his lips to hers lovingly.

The restaurant was a brilliant white and chrome affair, the tablecloths starched and unwrinkled. The single white rose perched in the middle of the table, perfect and unblemished, induced in Nancy the irrational fear that her purple dress was somehow intruding on the gleaming perfection of her surroundings.

Picking thoughtfully at the bread basket, Nancy scanned the wine list idly. "What do you think?" she asked curiously, knowing Ned would much rather drink a beer than the pompous overpriced offerings on the menu.

"How about a bottle of champagne?" he tossed out casually, "It is your birthday, after all."

"But you don't even like champagne that much," Nancy returned, her blue eyes searching his suspiciously.

"Oh, I've been known to make exceptions on special occasions," Ned shrugged with a smile. "And we did have a lot of fun with that bottle of champagne earlier, didn't we?" he added, a wicked gleam in his eye.

Their champagne poured with a flourish, Nancy sipped delightedly, the alcohol rendering her instantly lightheaded and giddy. It was so great to finally spend some relaxed time together. With Nancy in her final year at Cornell and Ned rapidly climbing the ranks at a busy investment firm in Chicago, they had to work furiously to make their relationship work. Weekends were spent battling traffic, suffering noisy, overcrowded airports and climbing on planes, all to snatch a few precious hours together. It wasn't enough, though, and with Nancy's finals approaching and the huge demands placed on Ned by his ever expectant bosses, Nancy feared their already stretched and meager hours together would whittle away until they were left making do with spending holidays and the odd weekend together. And if Nancy got accepted into the FBI...

"Are you okay, Nan?" Ned asked worriedly, reaching out and placing a comforting hand on her arm.

Realizing she was doing little good in pursuing this particular line of despair, Nancy gave him a faintly reassuring smile before turning her attention back to her food, the perfectly cooked steak lying untouched on her plate.

"It's just you haven't eaten anything," he added in concern, his brown eyes searching hers worriedly.

"Sorry," Nancy smiled apologetically, unable to break his gaze as she cut into her steak delicately. "It's just I can't remember the last time we've had such a lovely night together and I suppose I wish we could be like this more often. Do you know what I mean?" she asked softly, suddenly struck by feelings of unease and nervousness as she fidgeted awkwardly with her ring.

"I think I do," Ned smiled, reaching out and putting his hand to her cheek tenderly, the soft hum of conversation in the air and the watchful presence of the wait staff evaporating in the intensity of his loving gaze, meant only for her.

xxxxx

"Thanks so much for tonight, Ned," Nancy smiled gratefully, her silver shoes negotiating the puddles carefully, the pools of water shimmering majestically under the bright city lights. A colorful sea of umbrellas spread out before them as people spilled excitedly out of restaurants and bars, determined to make the most of their night despite the unfavorable conditions.

"I'm just glad you enjoyed it," he murmured contentedly, pulling her into the comforting warmth of his embrace.

"I just wish you didn't have to go back to Chicago in the morning," Nancy sighed, her dark mood suddenly threatening to return. "Exams are coming up and you're swamped with work; I'm just afraid it's going to be ages before I see you again."

"You'll be finished with college soon," Ned murmured reassuringly, his arms tightening around her in response. "And we'll be together all the time, maybe even get a place of our own. Please, don't worry about it."

"I suppose," Nancy replied, none too convinced. Her thoughts of pursuing her lifelong dream and joining the FBI clashed with the comforting, familiar thought of moving back to Chicago and settling down with Ned.

"Earth to Nancy," Ned said only half jokingly, glancing in amusement at his girlfriend. "Have you even been listening to what I've said for the past few minutes?"

"Sorry," Nancy apologized, red-faced, pulling herself from her reverie. "I guess I've just been doing a lot of thinking lately."

"About us?" Ned cut in curiously,

"Yeah, about us," Nancy smiled, her enthusiasm rewarded by the tightening of Ned's arms around her and the warm press of his lips against hers.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking myself, Nan," he admitted softly, and Nancy was rendered speechless as, unmindful of the wet ground, Ned knelt in front of her, grasping her hand in his. "Nancy, will you marry me?"

Despite her recent agonizing and the soul-searching that had caused many a sleepless night, Nancy ultimately found the decision surprisingly easy to make. "Yes, I would love to, Ned," she finally managed, her heart swelled with sudden anticipation and excitement as Ned slid the ring onto her finger, the diamond twinkling brightly under the harsh city lights.


	3. Time to Pretend

**Hello all! Initially my plan with this story was to follow a Nancy/Frank, Nancy/Ned formula, dealing with their relationships every second chapter but when I started going further into the story, I found that I could not stick to this rigidly, especially in the first half of the story. But each relationship will be given equal attention and hence the next two chapters will revert back the Nancy/Frank relationship. Confused? I hope not!**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

**

* * *

**Sitting in the hair salon, Nancy may as well have been sitting in the executioner's chair, the way she stared dully into the mirror. She hated how the hairdresser smiled at her with an overly bright expression, desperate in her attempts to extract some excited chatter about her wedding plans, her disappointment almost palpable when she received none in return. She was probably more accustomed to glowing brides-to-be bubbling with excitement about their special day than this sullen mess answering in monosyllabic answers. Nancy needed to get out of here fast. The air was too hot and too dry and the motion of the other hairdressers, quick flashes of black and blonde rushing around the crowded salon, was making her feel sick.

Fidgeting anxiously with her engagement ring, Nancy had a sudden, desperate yearning for caffeine. Her sole morning cup of coffee hadn't been nearly enough to prepare her for opening the door of her father's house to a wildly exuberant Bess. Hell, even George had mustered up enough excitement about the wedding to distract her from all thoughts of the dreaded bridesmaid's dress. Perfectly groomed hairdressers gathered around Nancy, sighing with envy at her ring and remarking on how lucky the weather was, the process leaving her feeling utterly inadequate. If these girls who didn't even know Nancy could display such enthusiasm, then why couldn't she?

What's wrong with me? she scolded herself, her sigh of exaggeration causing the red-faced hairdresser to look at her sharply.

"Am I pulling it a little tight?" she queried with sharp eyes, her fingers deftly pulling the red-blonde strands into rollers. "It's just, it won't set otherwise," she added by way of apology, tightly rolling another section of hair onto her head.

"Sorry, just thinking out loud." Nancy mumbled, red-faced, grabbing a magazine and flicking though it distractedly.

She wasn't sure how everything had happened so fast. When she had agreed to Ned's proposal, it had all seemed so far away and it had been easy to get excited about wedding plans, to get distracted by seating arrangements and dress fittings and color schemes, to forget that behind all this frivolity was the reality that this was it, this was forever. Her letter of acceptance into the FBI had arrived the other morning and Nancy hadn't even mentioned it to Ned, choosing instead to shred the evidence and discard it in the garbage can. This was not part of the plan. Ned's career was really taking off and Nancy had just been accepted on an internship into a prestigious law firm in Chicago. On the outside they appeared to have it all, the perfect house, the perfect life, but inside Nancy knew differently. Marriage was supposed to signal a new beginning, new opportunities, and Nancy knew she should be feeling excited, but instead all she felt was trapped.

It's just nerves, Nancy assured herself fearfully, willing herself to somehow get into bride-mode, with acceptable bride related concerns about flowers or dresses, and not these terrible, panicky doubts about marrying Ned.

"That's it, you're done," the hairdresser suddenly announced, examining her work with a critical eye, frantically spraying the loose knot of curls. "What do you think?"

"It's lovely," Nancy murmured distractedly, barely caring what her hair looked like, as long as she could get out of here, quickly.

"Everything will be fine, you know," the older woman assured Nancy with an intuitive wink, sensing the girl's nervousness. "My daughter was just like you, nervous as hell, worrying about God knows what," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "But in the end, things went perfectly and she even managed to have fun. So relax and enjoy it, that's what it's all about," she finished with a smile, sliding some extra pins into her hair as an afterthought.

Afraid of what she'd say if she dared open her mouth, Nancy merely smiled. If only her fears and doubts could be laid at something as trivial as a three-tier cake and some over-elaborate arrangements of flowers.

xxxxx

Flutes of champagne in hand, Nancy and George giggled excitedly as they sipped the bubbling liquid, much to Bess's consternation as she struggled to apply eyeliner to the unruly girls.

"Nancy, can't you stay still for one minute?" Bess scolded her friend as she wielded the makeup brush menacingly. "At the rate you're going, you'll be walking up the aisle with scary clown makeup. Now is that the look you really envisioned for your wedding day?" The expression on her face was so utterly serious that Nancy had to restrain herself from bursting into laughter.

"Come on Bess, it would be hilarious," George grinned, unable to resist the opportunity to poke fun at her cousin. "Can you imagine people's faces? Can you imagine Ned's face?"

"He probably wouldn't even notice," Nancy shot back jokingly, causing the pair to dissolve into fits of laughter.

It was a familiar scene; the girls were lounging around Nancy's room, Bess and George at each other's throats, the bed littered with all manner of tiny jars and bottles of makeup, but things were different now. The girls weren't teenagers anymore, and this wasn't some lazy Saturday evening spent gossiping and listening to the latest band; this was Nancy's wedding day, truly a signal of how much things had changed. In gleaming ivory, Nancy's dress hung regally from the bedroom door, the carefully chosen jewellery snaked in between childhood treasures and framed photographs. Their bouquets were tossed casually on the bed, tiny jewels sparking among the flowers.

"Is this much makeup really necessary?" George asked dubiously, pushing the vast collection of jars and brushes aside to make room on the bed. "Nancy's getting married, not appearing on Broadway."

"Yes, it is necessary," Bess shot back hotly, darting a look of exasperation at her cousin before applying Nancy's lipstick with exacting precision. "Honestly, I can only imagine what you'd do if I wasn't here."

"Have fun, get drunk," George shrugged, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she adjusted the pale blue flower tucked into her hair, her only concession to bridal fashion.

Whether alcohol related or not, Nancy's nerves had considerably eased and she now dismissed her earlier doubts and worries as ludicrous. She loved Ned, she was sure she did. He would make the perfect husband, and forgoing the FBI was only a small sacrifice to have to make when she considered the wonderful life they would have together.

"You look gorgeous," Bess bubbled excitedly, her annoyance at George put temporarily on hold with her excitement about the day ahead. "Are you ready to try on your dress?"

Something small still niggled at Nancy but she pushed it to the back of her head. "Sure," she smiled, taking a tentative step towards the dress and her future happiness with Ned.

xxxxx

Too early for even the most punctual of guests to be present, the church was unnaturally still and quiet, making Nancy feel almost like a mother creeping around her sleeping child. The light outside, dimmed by the stained glass windows, crept in glorious shades of blue, red and green, casting rainbow hues on the floors and walls. In stark contrast, the pale white of the flowers pinned neatly to the pews and spilling from the altar gave the church an almost ethereal glow. At the sudden creak of the door, Nancy spun around, smiling as she saw her father make his way towards her.

"Oh, honey, you look beautiful," Carson Drew declared proudly, pulling his daughter into a gentle hug, careful not to crush her dress. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she lied none too convincingly, evading her father's searching gaze.

"Really?"

"Okay, you got me," she sighed in answer to her father's questioning gaze. "I am so incredibly nervous. I don't know how I'm going to make it up the aisle, much less manage to get married to Ned." And I can't stop thinking I'm making this incredible mistake, she couldn't help adding in the privacy of her head, but to her father she merely smiled. "This is normal, isn't it? I mean, everyone feels like this, don't they?"

"Of course they do. You'll be fine, Nancy," her father reassured her resolutely, his expression suddenly softening. "You know, I look at you now and I don't know where the years have gone. I can't believe my baby is getting married."

"I know," she replied, her tone more somber then her father's, but if he noticed, he didn't say anything.

"Where are the girls?" he asked after a thoughtful pause. "I thought Bess would be glued to your side."

"Oh, she is, believe me," Nancy reassured him with a laugh. "I can hardly breathe without her coming at me with a makeup brush. Thankfully George is engaged in some mascara standoff, so I've been granted a temporary reprieve. No doubt she'll be back in a minute so I need to enjoy the peace and quiet while I can."

"Sounds like Bess all right," her father laughed, suddenly stopping when he caught sight of his watch. "Honey, you'd better finish getting ready, people will be arriving soon. Now you don't want to keep Ned waiting, do you?"

"Not for longer than a half an hour anyway," she returned mischievously before returning to her father with a serious expression. "Dad, I'm doing the right thing, aren't I?"

"Do you love Ned?" he asked pointedly, gazing in concern at his daughter.

"Yes, but..." she sighed, unable to put her mixed-up thoughts into words. "Dad, what if it's not as simple as that?"

"If you love him, it is," he pointed out gently. "Nancy, you have to relax, you'll be fine. I promise you."

Bolstered by his words, Nancy smiled. Her father was right. It so common for a bride-to-be to experience nervousness, it was almost cliché. This was just a temporary glitch in an otherwise perfect relationship. In the morning all this would be over and they'd be fine; more then fine, they'd be perfect. Tomorrow, they'd wake up in each other's arms, ready to begin the next chapter in their lives.

"Thanks, Dad," Nancy smiled, suddenly feeling infinitely better. "Now I better find Bess and get her to help me with my veil because I'll never manage it on my own."

"You do that, Nan," her father smiled encouragingly, giving her a final hug. "I'll see you in a minute, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed, a smile brightening her face as she headed for the door, her dress trailing awkwardly behind her.

xxxxx

The somber tones of the priest pronounced them man and wife and then Ned's lips were soft on hers, his hands cupping her face, claiming her as his.

"We did it," he murmured softly, his eyes shining as he pulled her close for another kiss.

"I know," she smiled, moved by the emotion on his face, and at that moment Nancy was filled with a sudden reassurance that everything would be okay. Her hand enclosed tightly in his, Nancy and Ned walked up the aisle to a raucous cheer and what felt like a thousand flashing cameras, the moment captured forever on film. Pushing open the heavy wooden doors and walking out into the sunshine, Nancy could finally let herself believe that they would be happy.

xxxxx

The room was aglow with thousands of sparkling lights and the sweet scent of flowers was heavy in the air as the opening notes of a song tinkled from the piano. Their jackets shrugged off, men sat back in the chairs talking sports and politics, while the woman hung on the edge of the dance floor, dancing distractedly, their children running in and out of the tables, cutlery and napkins scattering in their wake.

"Dance with me," Ned requested softly, holding his hand out to hers and pulling her up softly beside him.

"Sure," Nancy replied with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I just hope you're ready for the lift. Don't you dare drop me in front of all these people or you'll face the full force of my wrath later."

"Good one, Drew," he retorted jokingly, his hand resting comfortingly on the small of her back as he guided her out onto the dance floor. "Although, I must admit I'm intrigued about that bit about later. What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she murmured with a playful wink, their conversation brought to a sudden halt as they wandered onto the dance floor.

The first dance had proved to be a bit of a stumbling block in their otherwise smooth-running plans, and Nancy suspected Bess's outlandish suggestions, including the infamous scene from Dirty Dancing, were at the main root of the problem. Ned had been absolutely horrified and it had taken Nancy almost a week to reassure him that she would be perfectly satisfied dancing a simple waltz.

"I can't believe we're married," Ned mused thoughtfully, as they gazed softly into one another's eyes. "I love you so much."

There was something different about Nancy, Ned thought as he laid a hand tenderly on her cheek. Seeing her coming down the aisle, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off her; she had looked so beautiful. But it wasn't the dress, or the veil; it was the fact she had finally given herself over to him. Nancy had always been such an independent person and he supposed that subconsciously he never truly believed he'd get a commitment from her. But she had, and now she was beside him as his wife.

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you," he murmured lovingly, Nancy shivering in delight as Ned pressed a kiss to her neck. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look?"

"Only a couple of times," Nancy laughed, the music, the people around them disintegrating into nothingness as they danced slowly together.

"Now I think it's time I brought my wife upstairs, don't you?" Ned whispered longingly, Nancy giggling as he swept her into his arms.

Wife, the word echoed strangely in Nancy's ear. She was Ned's wife. The word had connotations of being older, more settled, but Nancy felt none of these things, just a sudden knowledge that this was right, this was perfect, and that she would never again be as happy as the way she felt just then, loved and contented in Ned's arms.


	4. The New Era

**5.37 a.m., FBI Academy, Quantico, Virginia**

Nancy's sneakers made a satisfying squelch as she completed her morning run, sprays of water and mud flying into the air and splattering haphazardly onto her bare limbs. It was a cold, hard morning; the sun had barely risen in the murky-gray sky and Nancy pushed herself even harder, panting with exertion as she ran against the force of the driving rain. Weather conditions had been unfavorable all week, the sky dark and stormy, rain battering the world below. A sudden misstep landed Nancy in a deceptively deep puddle, the icy water seeping into her sneakers.

_Ugghh,_ she shuddered inwardly, the thought of a long hot shower the only thing keeping her on course.

Life at Quantico was excruciating and every day brought its own challenges. It was about pushing yourself harder and harder until you reached your limit, and then pushing yourself a little more, but this was all Nancy had ever wanted and even ten-mile runs and push-ups in the blistering cold weren't enough to dampen her enthusiasm.

"You slowing down, Drew?" a voice called out teasingly from behind her.

"Not on your life, Hardy and if I'm supposedly slowing down, then why are _you_ behind _me_?" Nancy couldn't resist retorting with a sly smile, the words coming out in long, hard breaths.

"Good question," Frank shouted back, struggling to make himself heard over the howling wind. "That's something I'd better rectify then," he promised, putting on a sudden burst of speed and closing the distance between them until his arms were suddenly around her, his lips warm on hers as he pushed her roughly against a tree.

Nancy found it difficult to define her relationship with Frank; it had all happened so quickly. The night Nancy had chosen to betray Ned with Frank was the night everything changed, not least her relationship with Ned. Things had developed from there, tentative and uncertain. Under other circumstances, Frank would be considered a rebound, a fallback guy, but Nancy had known him for too long and had too much respect for him to allow herself to treat him in such a way. Maybe what they shared wasn't love, yet, but it was something, and that was enough for now.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured longingly, his lips finding hers again as the first rays of the sun gently touched the earth.

xxxxx

Nancy ripped her rain-sodden clothes off with a vengeance before stepping under the shower, enjoying the sensation of the steaming water as it warmed her icy limbs. She was exhausted; the punishing fitness regime combined with the freezing conditions outside were beginning to take their toll. The locker room was alive with the hum of softly muffled voices and the clang of locker doors being slammed shut, but Nancy drowned it all out, basking in one of the few moments of the day she could truly call her own. Closing her eyes, Nancy leaned against the shower wall, surprised when her thoughts drifted unexpectedly to her ex-boyfriend.

Ned. She hadn't allowed herself to think about him for so long; the memories were too painful and too upsetting. It had been far easier to vanquish them into the deepest recesses of her mind, where she wouldn't have to think about them, much less deal with them. Ned had been such an important part of her life for so long, and now he was gone. Nancy hadn't seen him since that night, and not for the want of trying. She had made countless phone calls, had paid numerous visits to his apartment, but all to no avail. It was over. Ned had shut her out of his life and she had no one to blame for it but herself.

Turning off the water, Nancy stepped out onto the cold, hard tiles, shivering as the cool air made contact with her bare skin.

_It would never have worked anyway, _Nancy consoled herself as she roughly towel-dried her hair. Ned wanted babies and marriage and stability, all the things Nancy was certain she did not.

"You coming for some breakfast, Nancy?" a voice called impatiently at her.

Her stomach growling in anticipation of food, Nancy shoved her bag into her locker before following her curly-haired roommate outside.

It was time for a fresh start, and she had that with Frank.

xxxxx

Preaching something about the importance of preserving the integrity of a crime scene, Agent Morgan's words barely reached her ears as Nancy sat in a daze in her forensics class. Her pen poised in the air, she glanced around the crowded auditorium, at the other students who were paying varying degrees of attention. The more dedicated listened intently, their heads bobbing up and down in unison as they endeavored to transcribe every word Morgan was saying; the more laid-back members of the room scribbled down a note or two at intervals. Today Nancy found herself resigned to the second category of students, the less interested ones, the more distracted ones, which was unusual because despite having vast prior knowledge on the subject, Nancy still found the field of forensics incredibly interesting.

But Frank's presence was distracting, as was his hand, which had strayed onto her knee and was now working its way up her thigh.

"I have a plan," he whispered softly, and Nancy could feel the force of his gaze on her. "Meet me tonight."

"Okay," she agreed, daring to flash Frank a smile before turning her attention back to her studies.

"So you agree, Ms. Drew?"

Hearing her name, Nancy's head snapped up. She had no idea what Agent Morgan was talking about; her face flushing at the expectant, impatient look in his eyes.

"How do you expect to ever take charge of a crime scene if you don't know the basics? This is important, Ms Drew. Learning the color of Mr. Hardy eyes isn't. Understood?"

Mortified, Nancy nodded shortly, lowering her eyes to her book, unnervingly aware of the sea of faces that had turned around, whispering and gazing at them in quiet amusement.

When all had gone quiet again, the class's attention refocused on the do's and don'ts of crime scene investigation, Frank reached over and squeezed Nancy's hand gently. "My room, tonight," he whispered softly, and Nancy's heart soared.

xxxxx

_Tonight,_ even the way he had said it, had sent shivers down her spine. His face had been so close that Nancy could almost feel the sensation of his lips, warm against her skin. He had spoken of plans, making it all sound very mysterious and romantic, but Nancy was well aware of his true intentions behind the words, and it mostly revolved around his bed, the floor, the wall, anywhere he could and would have her. Life was simple here; there were no restaurants, no fancy clothes, and Nancy hardly bothered with makeup. In a way it was better, more honest. They couldn't hide behind menus or cloak their feelings for one another in the darkened confines of a movie theater. They had each other and that was enough.

Initially they had reveled in keeping their relationship a secret, stoically practicing restraint, keeping their distance during the day, all the while sneaking stolen moments, the time apart making their time together all the sweeter.

Her hair damp, Nancy walked the short distance to the male dorm, not bothering with a jacket, thoughts of Frank sufficient in keeping her warm. Satisfied she wasn't in danger of being spotted, Nancy knocked discreetly on his door, smiling in delight as she was pulled swiftly inside and pinned against the wall.

"So, no John?" Nancy observed happily, wrapping her arms tightly around Frank's neck and responding willingly to his advances.

"Some family trouble," Frank shrugged distractedly, his fingers entangled in Nancy's hair as he pressed his lips against hers. "You know, I've been looking forward to this all day. Being with you here is becoming very distracting."

"Distracting, how?" Nancy asked softly, pulling her lips away from his and gazing into his eyes, smiling.

"Well, when we were out on the firing range today, all I could think about was what you were wearing under that shirt," Frank admitted with a slow smile, Nancy hardly daring to breathe as he kissed her neck softly, his fingers gently unbuttoning her shirt. "I missed every shot," he chuckled as the last button came undone, her shirt falling slowly to the floor.

"Is this what you imagined?" she managed with difficulty, mesmerized by the sweetness of his touch.

"It's even better," he murmured longingly, taking her in his arms and laying her gently on the bed.

Afterward, Nancy and Frank lay sprawled on the bed, legs and arms intertwined as they gazed at one another in contemplative silence.

"I can't wait until we're out of here and we can stop all this sneaking around," Frank said softly, smoothing an errant hair out of her face.

Nancy and Frank had never discussed the notion of their future before, not that she hadn't considered it. Nancy was growing closer to him than she'd ever expected and although they hadn't labeled their relationship, she felt like his girlfriend. They were a good fit; they both had common interests, a common goal which bound them, joined them together. There would be no fights about missed vacations or long hours spent apart, because he was like her.

"We might even get assigned to the same field office, maybe get a place together," he suggested, a touch of uncertainty in his voice.

"That would be great," Nancy found herself saying, and then his mouth was warm on hers, the night still and quiet around them as she melted back into his touch.


	5. Pressure

A knife lay on the ground beside the blood-drenched body of Evelyn West, but this was not the weapon that had been used to murder the unfortunate woman; a single gunshot to the back of the head had been the cause of that. Evelyn, a professor of fine arts at a local university, had been performing the mundane task of chopping vegetables for dinner when she had been shot from behind, the knife clattering noisily onto the ground beside her. The gleaming white kitchen was now showered in blood, long tracks of red staining the walls.

"These guys are too fucking good," she heard a colleague mutter disconcertedly beside her, and he was right.

The perpetrators had chosen their target well; the house was set back a considerable distance from the road and surrounded by a high red-brick wall. Even in broad daylight it would be possible to slip in the gates unnoticed, without being spied upon by prying, meddlesome neighbors. These men didn't take chances, didn't take risks. They planned their attacks well in advance and had yet to make a single mistake. Worse still, these men weren't motivated by money or greed like the average scumbag criminal; they were driven purely by the kill, and that made them all the more dangerous.

Riverside was one of the wealthiest suburbs of Chicago, where the houses sprawled to almost obnoxious proportions and cars cost the equivalent of an average American's lifetime earnings. Cossetted by their six-figure salaries and luxurious lifestyles, the residents were initially horribly indignant that such a thing could happen in their precious neighborhood. Now they were just scared, turning as usual to their money and investing in the latest in technological advances in security to protect them.

"What's your take on this, Drew," Derek Johnson, a senior colleague, demanded of her abruptly, seeing the speculative look on Nancy's face as she took in the grisly scene.

"Evelyn West is preparing dinner when our intruder comes in and shoots her in the back of the head," Nancy surmised grimly, her eyes drinking in the bloodied details of the scene. "She has no chance to react and dies instantly."

Nodding wordlessly, Derek urged her to continue, following the trail of destruction out of the kitchen, where bloodied footprints had been stamped all over the gleaming white.

"Now it gets more complicated," Nancy continued, stepping over the smeared pools of blood, careful not to disturb anything. "They hear a scream. It's Caitlyn, the daughter who's home visiting her parents for the weekend."

"The men aren't expecting anyone else to be there," Derek contributed in an absent tone, his eyes intently studying the series of bloody marks on the wall.

"Exactly," Nancy agreed with a slight smile. "And now they begin to panic and in their haste to find the girl, one of the men steps in the blood and accidentally tracks it all over the house. Caitlyn has no doubt seen the news, guesses what's going on and is terrified." Nancy sighed, kneeling down beside the dead girl's body.

Vivid red scratches run the length of her arms and face, her fists reduced to a bloody pulp, and it's obvious that the girl put up a commendable fight, but ultimately it's not enough, Caitlyn's flailing limbs no match for her opponent's gun.

"She was pretty," Nancy commented quietly, a picture of Caitlyn dressed up for her senior prom catching her eye.

"Not anymore," Derek sighed dejectedly, taking a final glance at Caitlyn's bloodied remains before walking out of the room.

xxxxx

Their home was a charmingly quirky, mid-terrace house that Nancy had become infatuated with the second they had walked in the door. Falling in love with the blue-and-white papered walls, Nancy had declared with uncharacteristic frivolity that it was the perfect house and it simply had to be theirs. The pair had moved in the following week, taking the next step in their quickly developing relationship. The house boasted an enviable location, within walking distance of some of the best bars and restaurants in the city, which was ironic considering that since that crazy, alcohol-fueled night, Nancy and Frank hadn't so much as gone for a drink together. Their work schedules were crazy and the few hours they managed to scrape together were far better spent at home in each other's arms than in a bar at midnight, straining to hear each other over the ridiculously loud music. Moving in together wasn't some big decision they had made, deliberating feverishly for weeks; the decision had in fact been made for them. Nancy and Frank had both been posted to the same field office and it had just made sense.

The house was shrouded in darkness as Nancy pulled up outside, not even a crack of welcoming light peeking out through the windows. Frank wasn't home yet, Nancy realized with a sigh as she slung her bag over her shoulder and slammed the car door shut, her keys rattling noisily in her hand. Chicago was in the grip of winter and the weather was bitterly cold and frosty, the snow never far away. Smoke snaked gracefully from the chimney of an adjacent house and Nancy regarded it jealously as she shivered into the collar of her coat. Temperatures had plummeted to well below freezing all day and Nancy could only imagine how cold their lonely, empty house would be.

Flicking on the television, Nancy collapsed gratefully on the sofa, tucking her legs comfortingly underneath her and resting her head on the plush softness of a cushion. Under normal circumstances Nancy would miss Frank now, would crave for his company and the feel of his arms wrapped tightly around her, but tonight she didn't care. She was ridiculously tired and hungry and her needs stretched only to fulfilling these basics.

The answering machine blinked red, but Nancy ignored it, knowing it would be her father. She didn't have the heart right now to have to justify her relationship with Frank for what seemed like the millionth time. It wasn't that Carson didn't like Frank, he did; and he didn't wholly disapprove of the relationship, just the speed of it. Nancy curled up a little tighter on the couch, deciding to put that particular conversation on the back burner for now.

Tomorrow, she promised herself, when she got home from work a little earlier and her head throbbed a little less and she had a bottle of wine on standby in case the conversation disintegrated like last time, into another fiercely blazing argument.

Adding her empty bowl to the collection of half-full coffee cups strewn all over the floor, Nancy sighed, unable to ignore the untidy state of their living room for a moment longer. Though both Nancy and Frank tried to keep their home clean, it was rarely tidy. Frank had heaped files unsteadily on the already overflowing coffee table and Nancy was equally guilty of the scattering of shoes and clothes left tossed on the carpet and draped on furniture throughout the house. Frank had never treated Nancy like a typical girlfriend, had never expected her to cook and clean; they had started out as equals and that had never changed. In fairness, Ned had never expected that from her either, but they had been going out for so long that the expectations were still there, from his parents and her father, who had all presumed that someday she would leave all this behind her and settle down and marry Ned, giving him the stability he so desperately craved and she so desperately needed.

The cheerless ring of her cell phone, buzzing on the table, momentarily startled her.

"Hey Derek," she mumbled into the phone, rubbing at her eyes wearily. "What's going on?"

"There's been another one," he informed her somberly, and Nancy could hear the same exhaustion in his voice. "The boss needs you down here right away."

"Already," Nancy sighed disbelievingly, pulling herself into a sitting position and wondering how she was ever going to muster the energy to shower and dress, much less work another blood-drenched crime scene. "These guys sure moves fast."

Swallowing a quick glass of orange juice and scribbling a note for Frank, Nancy pulled open the door and stepped outside, wondering what the next few hours would hold for her.

The night glowed blue as Nancy pulled in front of the sprawling red-brick house, the sirens of seemingly every police cruiser in Chicago wailing in the air. The scene was chaotic; work-weary officers were swarming the yard and the perimeter of the house, searching for God knows what, considering the men hadn't left so much as a fingerprint behind them so far.

It was blistering cold, the beginnings of a frost already starting to glisten on the boot-trodden grass, but Nancy barely felt it, a nervous sweat already starting to rise on her skin. Edging her way through the crowds of newscasters and reporters clamoring desperately for interviews, Nancy flashed her credentials at the police officers standing guard, who with a cursory glance and a nod let her through.

A simple holly wreath garnishing the door momentarily diminished the horror of what was waiting inside before the reddish-brown trail of blood sweeping across the hall instantly pulled Nancy back into reality.

The house was a blood-soaked horror scene, the crimson sprays shockingly vivid against the stark white of the walls. It glistened red, everywhere Nancy looked; it seemed there was nowhere the blood hadn't touched. Pin-prick splatters were sprayed across furniture and leather bound books, framed family photographs grotesquely defaced by the blood.

There were no bodies yet and Nancy followed the trail of blood, feeling like Hansel following the fabled crumbs of bread, only this path would have no fairy-tale end, no gingerbread cottage, just the certainty of more death and carnage.

Nancy saw him first. David Andrews, the proud family man, was now reduced to this, his body splayed out awkwardly on the floor and his final expression one of abject horror and grief. They had determined that his wife had died first, a single gunshot wound to the head, and he had more than likely witnessed her death, the ligaments binding his arms and legs preventing him from rushing forward to her aid. The cruelty of the act was unimaginable, the man being forced to watch his own wife being shot to death, knowing he was next.

"Fuck, what a way to go," Derek muttered joylessly as he surveyed the scene with a mixture of resignation and horror on his face. An FBI agent for over twenty years, Derek had thought he'd seen it all, but the events of the past few weeks had even him shaken. The attacks were getting more violent and more erratic by the day, but it would be hard to top this, he concurred grimly as he knelt down beside the female victim, the majority of her face dissolved into a gleaming, sticky mess.

"Any evidence?" Nancy asked, not holding out much hope as she knelt down on the carpet beside him.

"CSI are working on it, but so far not a thing," he shrugged, turning away from the body and glancing at Nancy sharply. "You okay, Drew? You look a little pale,"

"I'm fine, just a little tired," Nancy replied dismissively, turning back to the crime scene. She was touched by his concern, though. Derek was ex-Army and was not usually known for his caring disposition.

His phone rang and Derek answered it impatiently.

"The boss is on the way down here," he relayed to Nancy gruffly the second he slid the phone angrily shut. "The mayor is giving him hell. With elections coming up, he's afraid this is going to seriously damage his approval ratings."

"Typical," Nancy sighed under her breath, hating the politics that seemed to constantly interfere with their job. Everyday the newspapers carried the newest spin on the Riverside murders, who was responsible, who should resign. From police policy to the department budget to the FBI who had been drafted in to help, it seemed that everybody was at fault and the mayor's campaign to be reelected would be seriously in jeopardy if this messiness wasn't resolved soon.

"Five bodies in one day, it's a fucking disaster,"

"Five," Nancy echoed warily. "You mean, there's another one."

Derek nodding in reply, Nancy followed him down the hall to another open door, a child's name spelled out in bold, colorful letters.

Nothing could have prepared Nancy for the horror that awaited her in that final room, the sight of the little girl's bloodied body lying on the bed, jarring with the childish images of fairies and princesses adorning the wall.

Sudden sweat glistening on her forehead and nausea rising in her throat, Nancy hadn't time to answer Derek's questioning look. Turning on her heels, she ran, the contents of her stomach spilling all over the frosted lawn.

xxxxx

The smell of omelette, hissing on the pan, greeted Nancy as she pushed open the front door and wandered wearily into the kitchen, where Frank pulled her immediately into his arms, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

"I missed you last night," he murmured lovingly, kissing her deeply before leading her gently to the kitchen table.

A lone candle flickered on the table and though the effect wasn't as romantic under the bright morning night, it was a lovely gesture, and Nancy couldn't help but smile at seeing it.

"Champagne, madam," Frank asked jokingly as he poured some coffee for Nancy with a grand flourish.

"This is so sweet, Frank," Nancy sighed in amazement, noticing the plate of fresh croissants on the table that must have come from that bakery in town she had raved so much about. He'd even managed to tidy up, the dishes stacked neatly in the sink and the floor looking suspiciously like it had just been vacuumed. "What on earth possessed you to go to so much trouble?"

"Maybe because I love you," he murmured gently, leaning in to kiss her.

Nancy hesitated slightly as she cut into her omelette, the images of the previous night still raw in her mind. Frank noticed but didn't say anything, instead placing his hand gently over hers.

"How about we go skiing for Christmas," he suggested lightly, gratified when that thought mustered a smile from Nancy. "Long days at the slopes, log fires, no fights over where we have to spend Christmas day..."

"It would be perfect," Nancy finished helpfully, throwing her arms around Frank's arms and pulling herself into a seated position on his lap.

"You need the break, Nancy," he commented lightly, tilting her face up to his and kissing her gently. "You have been working too hard, even for you."

"You know, maybe a trip to the doctor might be in order," he suggested after a pause, seeing how Nancy was struggling with her food. "You haven't been yourself over the last few weeks."

"Maybe," Nancy shrugged dismissively, flashing him a reassuring smile before forcing herself to spoon some of the omelette into her mouth.

The pair lingered over breakfast, indulging in the morning papers and idly discussing various holiday plans, but Nancy couldn't stop thinking about what Frank had said, and it made her wonder.

The second Frank had left for work, grazing her cheek with a kiss, Nancy had crept out silently behind him, slamming the door shut.


	6. This Year's Love

**I am so sorry about my lack of updates in recent weeks! Writer's block coupled with planning for my upcoming wedding, scuppered any hope I would have had to get this chapter up sooner! Anyway, in this chapter we are back with Nancy/Ned! I hope everyone enjoys!**

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A silvery-blue moon shone in through the open curtains, the mostly cloudless sky glistening with stars above. The beginnings of the cruel Friday evening traffic were already starting to rumble, the night alive with the irate beeping of horns and the continuous hum of the steady stream of cars. The weather certainly wasn't making things any easier; the snow hadn't eased off in days and despite the best efforts of the city's maintenance crews, the streets were ice-glazed blankets of snow.

Gratefully kicking off her ill-chosen stilettos, Nancy sank down gracefully onto their bed, her cheek soft against the cool linen as she sought solace in the comforting quiet. Work had been hell. A kind of predictable hell, where all the days and weeks rolled into one continuous nightmare, where she was never challenged to do more or think beyond the next bulging file towering awkwardly on her desk, demanding to be poured over and scrutinized for every exacting detail until Nancy felt like she was going to scream. For weeks she had convinced herself that things would get better, forcing a smile and mustering some sort of false enthusiasm in front of her father and Ned. Sometimes she couldn't even bring herself to do that, simply shrugging half-heartedly whenever Ned even broached the subject of her internship. Today though, she had freedom. Baker & McKenzie was closing for the Christmas holidays and even Nancy was surprised at the ridiculous level of heady jubilation she felt at the prospect of a whole, glorious week freed of the mundane existence of her office duties.

Sprawled out lazily on the bed, Nancy allowed her gaze to drift lazily around the room. Painted almost entirely in soft grays and blues, the house was a labor of love, having being rescued from almost total dilapidation by Nancy and Ned. When they had initially purchased the Victorian redbrick, the wallpaper had been peeling in slow, miserable strips off the walls, the paintwork chipped and grimy. Predictably, Edith had clucked in dismay at the deplorable state of the house, wondering why they had chosen to live so close to the city in a house that was, in her estimation at least, completely unsuitable for family life. There wasn't even a garden, she had sighed miserably. And though Nancy didn't say as much to Ned, that had been at least part of the attraction. When she had first got engaged, people's eyes had been drawn immediately to her ring finger, where they had cooed and gushed over her engagement ring, pleading to be allowed to try it on and marveling at how beautiful and sparkly it was. Now their gaze was drawn instinctively to her stomach and Nancy wondered if she wasn't being a little paranoid when she sensed their almost immediate disappointment that her hands weren't cradled around a carefully rounded belly.

Clutching a pillow to her chest, Nancy ran her fingers thoughtfully through her hair, wondering if she shouldn't start setting it into careful little rolls. The evening was ticking away and Ned would be home soon, and he was rarely patient with the time it took her to arrange her hair in curls. They were due to attend an elaborate Christmas themed party hosted by some of Ned's wealthy clients that night and Nancy couldn't help but feel excited. The event promised to be a spectacular affair, the food sumptuous and the champagne flowing. Ned's job was demanding, the hours long and despite their best efforts, Nancy couldn't remember the last time they'd had a fun night out together. A day's shopping with Bess and George had resulted in the pale blue dress hanging in the wardrobe, the kind of dress she knew her husband would love, the silky material draping dangerously low on the back.

Hearing the familiar sound of Ned's key in the lock, Nancy pulled herself up in the bed happily, running her fingers hastily through her bed rumpled hair.

"Hey Nan," he greeted her with a smile, sitting down on the bed beside her and enclosing her in his arms. "How was your day?"

"Good, now you're here," she sighed contentedly, resting her head against his shoulder and relishing in the moment of closeness between them. Being with Ned, being his wife felt so right that she couldn't imagine living any other life and her minor irritations with her job suddenly seemed insignificant to how perfect their life was in every other respect.

"You know, crime rates are going to double when you finally qualify as a lawyer," Ned informed her soberly, his fingers trailing idly over her arm as he gazed at her with mock-seriousness. "I, for one, would definitely commit a crime if it meant I got to have you as my lawyer."

"Cute," Nancy retorted playfully, kissing him softly on the lips before pulling him down beside her. "What about if I did this?" she asked him with a sly grin, pulling her wool dress up over her head and exposing the coral pink underwear underneath.

"I'm pretty sure a lawyer is not meant to do that," Ned managed jokingly, his eyes eagerly drinking in the expanse of tanned flesh.

"Does that mean you want me to put it back on?" she whispered, gasping as Ned reached out and ran his fingers reverently over her skin.

"What do you think?" he demanded huskily, pinning her hands under his, Nancy arching her back in pleasure as he pressed his lips to hers.

A luxurious shower later and her limbs gleaming with recently applied lotion, Nancy pinned up her hair into an elaborate chignon, tiny swirls of red-blonde escaping down her back. "Does it look okay?" she asked her husband anxiously, suddenly wishing she'd made a last minute appointment with the hairdressers or at the very least, consulted Bess's expertise.

"It's perfect," Ned assured his wife absently, his attention mostly focused on the nightly news report.

"You didn't even look," Nancy accused Ned with a mock-glare before abandoning her perch in front of the mirror to join him on the bed.

"Nan, you always look beautiful, so why would this time be any different?" Ned replied with an appeasing smile, kissing her softly before draping an arm lovingly over her bare shoulder. "But, you've got to look at this. There's been another murder."

"You're joking," Nancy retorted disbelievingly, though she wasn't sure why she was so surprised. This had been the fifth murder in under a week in Riverside and the media was saturated with reports of the brutal killings, the bloody details spilled over the cover of every newspaper and television report.

"Thank God you didn't apply to the FBI," Ned sighed gratefully, his grip on her tightening protectively as the camera focused in on a scene of total carnage, the bloodstained walls a testament to the horror that had transpired there only hours earlier. "You could have been involved in all this."

"I know," Nancy replied, her tone more wistful than she'd intended. If Ned noticed, he didn't say anything, dropping a final kiss on her head before heading over to the wardrobe to finish getting dressed for the party.

--

"Morning, Nancy," Ned greeted his wife with a mug of steaming coffee, Nancy cruelly awoken by a blast of early morning sunshine, its effect on the freshly fallen snow almost blinding.

"Ned Nickerson, close those curtains right now or I will kill you," Nancy moaned irritably, the coffee little consolation for the torturous effect the sudden brightness was inflicting on her head.

Nancy had slept in her underwear, her nightgown tossed lazily on the floor among the other scattering of clothes, and her hair was still in the confines of the hasty chignon, the pins no doubt contributing to the burning pain in her head.

"This is all your fault anyway," Nancy pouted, spying the lipstick smeared glass lying on the floor beside the bed, the gold-labeled bottle of champagne balanced precariously on the edge of the bedside table. "I can't believe you convinced me to open that second bottle of champagne."

"I don't remember you complaining," Ned shot back with a teasing grin as he rummaged in the closet for a clean shirt, Nancy taking the opportunity to gaze appreciatively at her husband's bare, tanned chest.

Carefully untangling a pin from her red-gold hair, Nancy pulled back the sheets and gazed at Ned with what she hoped was an enticing expression. "Come back to bed, baby," she murmured temptingly, the strap of her pale-blue bra slipping down her shoulder. "We can spend all day in bed together, like we used to. It will be fun," she added seductively, reaching out and catching his hand in hers, Ned laughing as she pulled him onto the bed beside her. Kneeling up, Nancy wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him deeply. "See," she murmured knowingly, her blues eyes gazing into his as they kissed softly.

His expression apologetic, Ned pressed his lips to hers one last time before reluctantly pulling away. "I would love to spend all day in bed with you, Nan, but I've promised my mom we'd have lunch with them today. In fact, we're already late," he said, wincing when he caught sight of the time. "Jump into the shower, work your magic with your make-up and I'll meet you in the car in ten minutes."

"Lunch," Nancy retorted, horrified, as she kicked reluctantly out of her cozy nest of blankets, her head throbbing in protest. "I can't believe you are springing this on me. You'd better think of something good to make this up to me, Ned Nickerson. And that something can't be sex," she added as an afterthought, calling after her husband as he made his way down the stairs.

Lunch at the Nickerson's was generally an unnecessarily complicated affair, involving many elaborate courses followed by an array of lavish desserts. It was a worrying thought; today Nancy doubted in her ability to keep even a single glass of water down. Rummaging resignedly in her closet for a suitable dress to wear, Nancy felt her stomach give a sudden, violent lurch. Racing to the bathroom, she made it just in time, the contents of her stomach spilling all over the toilet.

--

The Nickerson household was the epitome of Christmas cheer, gently flickering candles and brightly colored cards cluttering up every free surface and the sight made Nancy feel suddenly guilty; her own attempts at creating a festive atmosphere had extended solely to decorating their Christmas tree.

"Here, let me take your coat, Nancy," Edith offered, beaming as she bustled around the couple, evidently enjoying the fuss. Shrugging off her warm purple coat, Nancy wondered if she had imagined the disapproving look on Edith's face when she regarded Nancy's slim-fitting dress. Unfortunately, she had not. "You're not eating enough, Nancy," she declared disapprovingly, shooting a glance in Ned's direction as though accusing her of similarly starving her son. "You're looking very thin. I'll have to have you both over for dinner more often, put a little color in those cheeks."

"It's just work, you know," Nancy offered in an offhand manner, not having the heart to tell Edith that her pallid complexion had less to do with under eating and a lot more to with her overindulgence in alcohol the night before.

Lounging on the sofa with his father, Ned was escaping relatively easily, Nancy noticed with a patient sigh, a football game playing on the television commanding their almost full attention. "Dinner will be ready in five minutes," Edith called out in warning to her son and husband as she disappeared into the kitchen, Nancy grateful for the momentary respite.

The dinner table was immaculately set with festive silver and white linen, a red-ribboned holly wreath gracing the centre of the table. Taking a deep breath, Nancy eyes the steaming bowls of food worriedly. Eating while hung-over was a delicate balance; too much food and she ran the risk of getting sick again, too little and she would insult her host. Determined to do neither, Nancy spooned food onto her plate with careful deliberation, her efforts rewarded when she saw Edith shoot her an approving smile.

"I suppose you're keeping up with all the developments on the murders in Riverside, Nancy?" James enquired politely as he spooned some mashed potato onto his plate.

"Well it's a little hard not to," Nancy replied with a shrug as she gratefully accepted a glass of water from Edith. "You can't turn on the television or pick up a newspaper without hearing about it."

"It's frightening," Edith cut in with a forceful shake of her head. "I was talking to Lillian Carter in the supermarket the other day and she was telling me they were thinking of relocating to their house in the country while all this was going on. She's an old neighbor of ours," Edith directed helpfully at Nancy before taking a delicate sip of wine from her glass.

"That woman's a pain in the ass," Ned commented wryly, earning him a disapproving look from his mother. "She's probably loving this. She probably killed all those people just to give her something to gossip to her book club friends about."

"Not so long ago you would have been in the thick of the investigation yourself, Nancy," James winked jokingly at Nancy as he relaxed back in his chair. "Maybe if you were on the case the murderer would have been caught already and we could all breathe a sigh of relief."

"I doubt that," Nancy returned modestly, her cheeks blushing red at the compliment. "But I'm sure the police will get whoever is doing this soon. At the rate the bodies are turning up, they're bound to make a mistake soon."

"Let's hope so," James declared optimistically, pouring himself another glass of wine.

"Laurel rang with some news last night," Edith announced cheerfully as she served slices of chocolate cake onto delicate plates, Nancy cringing as she sensed instantly where this conversation was going.

"Oh," Ned enquired lightly, unwittingly falling into Edith's trap, as he eagerly spooned big chunks of cake into his mouth.

"She's pregnant," Edith informed them excitedly, regaling Nancy and Ned unnecessarily with the specific details of Laurel's pregnancy. "She was wondering if you two had any news but of course, I had to tell her no," she sighed dramatically before blithely turning the conversation to the subject of their upcoming kitchen renovation.

Though neither referred to it, Edith's pointed comment lingered between them on the long journey home. And even that night as Nancy rested lightly against Ned's chest, the bedside lamp casting shadows eerily on the wall, things remained strained; the sheer effort at avoiding the inevitable baby discussion was more exhausting than the conversation itself.

"Are you really so against us having a baby?" Ned finally brought himself to ask, pulling himself up in the bed and gazing at her from his uncomfortable perch against the cast iron bed frame. Though there was no anger in his tone, Nancy couldn't help feeling defensive, her body stiffening as she forced herself to meet his gaze.

"I'm not against us having a baby, per se," Nancy insisted, her heart beating uncomfortably in her chest as she chose her words carefully. "I would love us to have a baby, one day," she proclaimed, her focus as always on the far off, the distant future. "It's just that with work and the house the way it is, I don't think it's the right time," she finished lamely, knowing Ned would see her reasoning for the delay tactic that it was.

"I suppose," Ned replied resignedly, but his voice held none of Nancy's conviction. "It's just that you should have seen you face when my mother suggested we might have a baby. You almost choked."

"Ned, you know how your mother can get," Nancy began "And I just wasn't prepared for the 'When are you going to make me a grandmother' speech she loves laying on me, when I'm hung-over. It's almost as though she senses my weakness," she sighed with a rueful shake of her head, gratified when her comment earned her an amused smile from Ned. "Don't worry, we'll have lots of babies, ten if you want," she gestured jokingly, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. "But it has to be when we're ready and not when your mother or anyone else thinks we should be."

"Okay," Ned agreed with a smile, returning her kiss eagerly before reaching into the drawer of the bedside locker and handing Nancy an envelope. "I have something for you,"

'What is it?" she asked curiously, turning the envelope over in her hands as though it would give her a hint of what was inside. The envelope was not colored or decorated or any of the things she would have expected if Ned had been giving her a gift, and that alone was intriguing. It was a plain brown envelope, standard office stationary and ripping it open, Nancy's heart almost stopped when she saw the familiar crest of the FBI on the header of the paper.

"You're serious?" she demanded in shock, the page gripped in her almost shaking hand. "You really think I should go for this?"

"I just want you to be happy." Ned shrugged and Nancy threw her arms around him excitedly, feeling the most positive she had felt about their future in ages.


	7. No Happily Ever After

**I hope everyone is enjoying the story! This chapter still deals with Nancy and Ned's relationship but in the next, the emphasis will shift to Nancy and Frank. Enjoy!**

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Why Bess regarded shopping as a pleasurable activity, was something Nancy never really understood. The mall was heaving, the unrelenting snowfall and the plummeting temperatures driving the whole of Chicago indoors. Teenagers hung in groups, the girls giggling and whispering about their latest crush, the boys staring on unimpressed, their conversation extending solely to the previous night's football game. Weary-eyed mothers pushed prams in the same circuit around the mall, their red-faced babies squalling angrily. Nancy didn't blame them. She felt like crying herself.

Sipping her diet cola delicately through a straw, Bess gazed at Nancy curiously, her finger twisting around a lock of pale-blonde hair. "You mean you're quitting your internship? But, why?" Bess demanded as she absently picked at the cold remains of the French fries on her plate. "People would kill for the opportunity you've been given. And you're going to throw it all away for the FBI?" The disdainful way she uttered the words left Nancy in no confusion as to Bess's opinion of her decision. "You could get kidnapped, shot at, murdered. I've seen Criminal Minds," she explained with an emphatic shake of her head, as though watching a television show was more legitimate than any training in Quantico Nancy could hope to pursue. "Why would you possibly want to do this?"

"Because I hate working at Baker & McKenzie," Nancy answered honestly, pushing wilted lettuce leaves to the side of her plate. "I hate it, Bess, I absolutely hate every second I'm there. You have no idea what it's like," she added with a meaningful look, pleading with her friend to understand. Having secured her dream job working as a buyer for Bloomingdales, Bess loved, adored and raved about her job; about the parties, the glamorous photo shoots, the jet setting to Paris and Milan. Nancy only complained.

"Nancy, get real," Bess retorted dismissively, using her napkin to delicately dab at a ketchup stain on her sleeve. "Everyone hates their job at the beginning. You'll get used to it and, you know, settle down."

"That's the thing, Bess, I don't want to have to get used to it," Nancy sighed, draining the end of her soda and discarding the paper cup on her plate. "I don't want to have to settle. I've always wanted to join the FBI, you know, the same way you've always wanted to work for Bloomingdales."

"I guess I understand," Bess relented finally, as she gathered her purchases and slung her purse over her shoulder. "What does Ned think?" she asked after a pause, her attention mostly focused on a glamorous purple gown draped on a mannequin in a shop window.

"Well, it was kind of his idea," Nancy shrugged, dabbing some gloss onto her lips.

"But won't you have to move to Virginia?" Bess suddenly realized, turning to Nancy and shuddering at the thought. "What are you and Ned going to do?"

"It won't be so bad," she replied, the look of abject horror on Bess's face telling Nancy she remained unconvinced. "We can do holidays and weekends. We survived all those years when Ned was away at Emerson, surely we can get through this."

Pausing at a baby store, Bess gazed wistfully at the spring themed window display, miniature dresses and tiny pairs of jeans draped among cotton-tailed rabbits and yellow chicks. "How cute are those pink jeans?" she cooed, her nose practically pressed against the glass. "You know, I can't wait until you and Ned have a baby, so I have an excuse to go into one of these shops and buy lots and lots of cute baby clothes."

"Don't hold your breath," Nancy muttered in warning, taking Bess by the arm and guiding her friend forcefully away from the store, as though even being in the vicinity of a baby store was infectious and pregnancy was a disease Nancy certainly wasn't willing to risk.

--

Shaking the snow from her red-gold hair, Nancy eagerly pushed open the door of the restaurant, the bells hanging over the door tinkling merrily. Her father was already seated at a corner table, and seeing him, Nancy forced a smile and squashed the nervous flutter of butterflies that were already threatening to erupt. Doing this, leaving her internship, would be regarded as a mistake in her father's eyes, Nancy knew, and she hated disappointing her father. Joining the FBI would be another disappointment.

"Hi Dad," Nancy greeted Carson, leaning over and giving her father a kiss on the cheek.

"How are you, Nan?" he greeted his daughter warmly, smiling as she peeled off her snow-sodden coat and took a seat opposite him.

Quietly bustling, the restaurant was full of the regular lunchtime patrons, the customers on first name terms with the waiting staff and the patter of conversation familiar and teasing. There was an energy in the room, a sense of impatience, heightened by the fact that people could so rarely linger over lunch when their inevitable return to the office hung over them like a dark cloud.

Seeing the steaming plates of food coming from the kitchen, Nancy's stomach grumbled in anticipation. Nancy had somehow managed to sleep in that morning, an event which was unusual for her, and thus breakfast was a hastily grabbed piece of fruit and a black coffee.

"Any news, Nan?" her father asked curiously, as she poured over the brief menu before finally settling on pasta. There was an expectant tone in Carson's voice, as though he guessed something was up, and Nancy knew why. Although she saw her father regularly, it was rare that they actually met for lunch; Carson's meetings with clients often spilled well into the afternoon.

"Actually, Dad, there is something," Nancy admitted hesitantly, taking a piece of bread from the basket and tearing a narrow strip from it nervously. "I've been accepted into the FBI and I've decided to go for it," she declared, the words tripping over themselves in her eagerness to get the information out in the open.

"That's your news?" her father spluttered in shock as he gratefully accepted a glass of wine from the waitress.

"Well, yeah," Nancy shrugged, confused by her father's reaction. It was almost as though he'd prepared himself for a different sort of news. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"Oh, nothing," Carson replied dismissively, regaining his composure as he cut into his steak. "I suppose I'm just wondering what made you decide to do this? I thought you were really settling down at the firm."

"It's not what I expected it to be," Nancy admitted with a shrug, placing her cutlery on her plate and gazing apologetically at her father. "No offense, Dad, but this is not what I'm supposed to do. I'm bored, irritable. Hell, I don't know how Ned puts up with me half the time. I have to do this," she leveled with him, her arms crossed as she gazed at her father from across the table. "Because I think I'm going to go crazy if I don't."

"And Ned is okay with this?" Carson prompted her doubtfully, taking another drink from his wine.

"He says he is," Nancy confirmed with a hopeful sigh. "We know it's going to be hard but we're both willing to work for this, so it will be okay."

Nancy had expected disappointment, even straight-out disapproval from her father, and she had prepared herself for that. Luckily, in the end, he displayed neither emotion and if anything, just seemed resigned to her decision.

"Nancy, I just want you to be happy and if that means joining the FBI, then that's what you should do."

"Thanks, Dad," Nancy smiled, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand warmly. Carson's approval meant a lot and Nancy wasn't sure how confident she'd be leaving everything behind, if her father hadn't accepted her decision to join the FBI as gracefully as he had. It was a sign of sorts and Nancy was determined to take it.

--

Though it was barely six o' clock, the sky was already inky black, the pale crescent of the moon spilling light onto the world below. The house was freezing, a victim of the bitterly cold temperatures. Shrugging out of her warm purple coat, Nancy stared at her reflection in the mirror in the hall. She looked exhausted; dark shadows, black smudges lingered under her eyes. Work had been trying at best. She had made twelve cups of coffee, had gone on two sandwich runs and had even been sent to collect a senior partner's dry-cleaning, his housekeeper seemingly indisposed for the day. It was ridiculous. She felt like a servant. Apparently, this was normal practice, this was what an intern was expected to deal with if they hoped to graduate onto getting real experience the following year. The only thing that sustained Nancy, the only thing that got her through the day, was the thought of handing in her notice. Not that they'd notice or even care, she thought wryly, rubbing a little moisturizer under her eyes. They'd just replace her with another blonde, who would be more than willing to make their coffee and collect their lunch and who might even manage to perform her duties with a smile on her face, as opposed to Nancy's barely contained scowl.

Though Ned had sworn to her he would clean up after dinner the previous night, the kitchen was a mess, their plates heaped lazily on the table, the countertops scattered with crumbs and some spilt spaghetti sauce dripping a gooey mess on the otherwise gleaming tiled floor.

"Typical," Nancy sighed irritably as she noisily loaded the dishwasher, gaining a tremendous sense of satisfaction from the heavy clang of the pots and pans as she practically threw them into the sink.

Nancy knew she was being irrational, that Ned generally did his share of the household duties, often taking charge of the cooking, which allowed Nancy the indulgence of a steaming bubble bath after a particularly stressful commute home. But try as she might, Nancy couldn't shake off her mood and was busy preparing dinner, making angry stabs at the chicken when Ned arrived home, a fierce gust of wind blowing in a shower of snowflakes behind him.

"Hey Nan," he greeted her warmly, an irrational surge of anger shooting through Nancy as he laid a hand casually on the small of her back. "How are you?"

"Fine," Nancy muttered, not even bothering to turn around, anger burning in her chest as she sliced through the chicken fillets.

"Do you want to go out tonight?" Ned suggested cautiously, sensing his wife's caustic mood. "We could go to the movies or maybe for a drink?"

"I can't," she replied matter-of-factly, pulling away from him and sweeping some red-stained wine glasses from the table and balancing them carefully beside the sink. "There's too much to do. I couldn't possibly go back to work in the morning the state the house is in. You told me you would do this last night," she finally spat out, unable to contain her anger any longer.

"I was, until a certain person distracted me," Ned teased his wife lightly, taking her hand and forcing her to look him.

"But you could have done it afterwards," Nancy replied stubbornly, resuming slicing up the chicken fillets into neat, uniform sized pieces. "I feel like a servant. You're not the only one with a job, you know?"

"Where's all this coming from?" Ned asked, taken aback by the frustration in her tone. Gently reaching out, he placed his fingers on her cheeks, and tears prickled at Nancy's eyes at the tenderness of his touch.

"I don't know," Nancy admitted honestly, the anger slowly draining away as Ned took her in his arms and held her close.

"You'll be okay," Ned murmured reassuringly, a worried expression on his face as he ran a hand soothingly over her hair.

--

Saturday morning was Nancy's favorite time of the week; the morning generally revolving around lazy, drawn-out sex and sharing breakfast in bed, Nancy and Ned lingering under the sheets, entangled in each other's arms long after the sun was spilling through the curtains.

This Saturday morning was different, though. Ned was on a business trip in New York and Nancy was alone, running through a nearby wooded park, almost wishing she was at work, engaged in some mindless task if only to distract her from the worrying thoughts that had been building up inside her for days.

Her period was almost a month late.

The rational part of Nancy's brain pleaded with her that she was not pregnant, that the notion was entirely impossible; Nancy took her pill with military precision, the routine as firmly ingrained in her daily regimin as showering or brushing her teeth. She didn't feel any different, she hadn't put on any weight, and she hadn't been plagued with the infamous morning sickness Jan had complained about for months. But the memory of Ned's Christmas party niggled at her. She had been dreadfully hung-over and she had been sick.

Slowing down her pace, Nancy forced herself to relax. The park seemed almost alive, the glorious green of the grass a welcome sight after months of snow and ice. Daffodils had seemingly sprung up over overnight, their yellow heads bobbing in unison as Nancy jogged along the twisted path, but the trees were still bare, the skeletal branches stretching grotesquely into the sky. Leaves and branches crackled underfoot as she made her way deeper into the woods and Nancy knew Ned would, quite rightly, kill her if he ever found out she had run this isolated track of land alone. Chicago was noticeably quieter under the Riverside Murderer's reign, the increased police presence on the streets at night made all the more prominent by the city's otherwise deserted state. But she needed the space to think and in truth, the prospect of having a baby terrified Nancy far more than any knife-wielding serial killer ever could.

A baby would change everything. It would mean giving everything up, everything she'd worked for, everything she'd hoped to accomplish, and nobody would understand. Everyone would gush delightedly, touch her stomach, and force their excitement on Nancy. It would be hell and once everyone knew, that was it. Ned, she knew, would swear that after she had the baby, they could move, that she could still join the FBI and Nancy would see the words for the false declarations that they were. She had tried to talk to Bess about it but had pulled back at the last moment, not wanting to make the situation more real than it already was by putting words to her fears.

Pushing herself even harder, Nancy turned up the volume on her iPod until the music drowned out her thoughts.

She would deal with this tonight. Take the test and see if she was pregnant. If she wasn't, then she could just relax, suffer through the next few months at Baker & McKenzie before handing in her notice and finally realizing her dreams at the FBI.

And if she was. Well, that was something else. She would need more time to consider that possibility. Ned was away until Thursday and that gave her time to think, time to consider. And as long as Ned didn't know, Nancy didn't need to panic yet. She could fix this. The only question was how.


	8. The Promise

**In this chapter we are back with Nancy/Frank. I hope everyone enjoys! **

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FBI offices, Chicago, 7.20 a.m., Tuesday 7th April**

Wind whistled in her ears, the air icy cold as Nancy walked briskly up the steps of the FBI offices, desperate for refuge from the bitter cold. Spring's optimistic beginnings had been all too short-lived, as April brought heavy snowfalls and temperatures plummeted to all time-record lows, raining misery to all of Chicago. The roads were a mess and traffic was hell, schools and other public services closed as the city council attempted to deal with this temporary crisis.

Pushing through the glass plated double doors, Nancy sighed in relief as she felt the rush of warm air on her face. Carefully unwinding her snow dampened scarf from around her neck, she shrugged out of her coat before collapsing gratefully at her desk, already eagerly anticipating her usual morning coffee. Sifting through papers, Nancy took a minute to appreciate the relative peace and quiet of the office. Any person unlucky enough to have to commute from the vast network of suburbs that surrounded Chicago was more often or not late as the deteriorating conditions of the roads hampered every journey.

"I'm still waiting on those reports to send over to the BAU, Drew," Derek Johnson barked out sharply from behind her. Nancy turned to find the older man eyeing her impatiently.

"So, no good morning then," Nancy teased lightly, not entirely certain it was the right approach to take with the man given his obvious bad humor.

Though the dreadful weather conditions had ground Chicago to a halt, it was obviously no deterrent to the so-called Riverside serial killer. Two bodies had been found the previous day in a house in a neighborhood across town. Riverside was no longer the killer's hunting ground, his activities no doubt hindered by the highly concentrated police presence and constant media coverage. The victims, two teenaged girls, had been taking full advantage of their parents' annual trip to Hawaii and were in the throes of preparing for a party for their high school friends. The first of the guests arrived just after eight o' clock, expecting scantily clad girls and spiked punch, but instead found the bodies of their friends sprawled across the bed of the master suite, their blood splattered wildly across the walls. The team had remained at the crime scene until well after midnight and Nancy consequently was exhausted, the countless sleepless nights finally taking their toll.

"You'll get your good morning when I get those reports," he barked in reply, giving his watch a cursory glance before returning his attention to Nancy. Derek wasn't evidently faring well with the sleep deprivation either, and as he stalked towards his desk, Nancy made a mental note to stay out of his way, given his mood

Coffee, Nancy decided, and quickly, as she carefully spread photographs from the crime scene across her desk. The images were as grisly as they were shocking, the bed linen streaked red, the girls' ripped and bloodied party dresses torn from their bodies and rehung freakishly in their closet.

The media were having a field day with the recent turn of events, the killer compared from everyone from the Zodiac to Jack the Ripper, their station ratings skyrocketing as the body count rose. Predictably, the FBI and the Chicago PD were slated for interviews during the news reports, politicians and local representatives demanding to know why the killer wasn't apprehended already. The truth was that the so-called Riverside killer wasn't going to be easy to catch: investigators suspected that he had shaved all his body hair off and wore latex gloves in an attempt to prevent any physical evidence from being uncovered at a crime scene. Ironically, in his determination to withhold information from investigators, the killer provided his own clues to the FBI. The killer had to have a previous record; his reluctance to leave physical evidence meant the discovery of a strand of hair or a fingerprint would result in a direct hit with VICAP. The initial concentration of attacks on Riverside suggested that the killer had links of some sort with the wealthy suburb; whether they be of a scorned lover, former resident or perhaps a bullied high school student, the FBI had yet to uncover.

Yawning wearily, Nancy gathered the photographs together in a neat pile for further examination when her head wasn't as fuzzy and her eyes weren't threatening to close at any given minute. Pregnancy was exhausting; the sheer effort of showering and dressing in the morning left Nancy ready for another nap. As of yet, nobody knew of Nancy's condition. Frank's frequent absence and Nancy's preoccupation with the case made it easy for her to dismiss the pregnancy as something she could deal with later. Her morning sickness had mercifully passed and though the doctor had declared her almost four months pregnant, Nancy displayed none of the signs of it, a hectic work schedule keeping her slim figure in shape. Stripped down to her underwear, though, her pregnancy was a little more obvious, and Nancy knew she would have to tell Frank tonight. His case involving tracking down drug smugglers off the coast had finally come to a close the previous day and Frank was due home on an evening flight. Despite her reservations about sharing the news of her pregnancy with Frank, Nancy was glad. Other than the odd snatched weekend that he had managed to catch a flight into Chicago, Nancy hadn't spent any real time with Frank in ages and the house had seemed cold and empty in his absence.

Sipping her coffee absently, Nancy wondered how Frank would react when he learned of his impending fatherhood. Though Nancy and Frank had spoken often about their future, making vague references to the possibility of marriage, the notion of having children had never once even been considered; hardly surprising, considering the unpredictable nature of their jobs in the FBI. Having a baby would inevitably lead to one of them putting their career temporarily on hold, and since neither Frank nor Nancy were willing to sacrifice their jobs in the FBI, the conversation was never really up for discussion. Now they would have no choice, she thought grimly, draining the end of her coffee down, feeling immediately guilty for having, yet again, ignored another doctor's warning.

--

Snow was falling heavily as Nancy negotiated the short twenty minute walk from the office to her house, snowflakes immediately settling over her freshly trodden footprints and completely covering all trace of her movements in seconds. Shivering into the warmth of her heavy wool coat, Nancy quickened her pace as she eagerly anticipated her planned pasta dinner, imagining a hot shower while the food bubbled invitingly in the oven.

Though it wasn't quite six o' clock, the sky was already impossibly dark and Nancy couldn't help feel a little nervous as she ventured through a particularly isolated stretch of town. Lined with bars and restaurants, the street came alive on Saturday night, the place teeming with scantily clad women and drunk men all vying for a spot in the latest, hottest club. But now, on a Monday night, it was virtually deserted, iron grates and shutters pulled over doors, giving the street the appearance of a ghost town. Wandering through the darkness, images of the teens' bloodied bodies flashed through her head and Nancy practically ran the remaining distance home, her key ready in her hand to slot into the door.

"Frank, I'm home," Nancy called out in relief, happily spotting his coat slung untidily over the banister of the stairs. "Where are you?"

The steady hum of the shower provided her with that answer and Nancy wandered into the kitchen, eager to get a start on dinner. Slotting one of Hannah's much coveted lasagnas into the oven, Nancy's brain raced into overdrive as she mentally rehearsed how exactly she would break the news to Frank.

_Tell him immediately,_ a part of Nancy sang out insistently, as she methodically sliced through tomatoes for a salad. _He might be shocked, even angry at first but there can be no more delaying this. He was going to find out later, anyway._

_Wait until tonight, _the more appealing option echoed deviously in her head. Nancy was not able to even imagine how Frank was going to take the news. Both worked grueling hours in an often dangerous job and there couldn't be a worse possible time for them to have a baby. _It wouldn't be fair to drop the baby bombshell on top of him like this, _something inside of Nancy insisted convincingly as she distractedly mixed the salad. _Wait until he's had a few drinks, loosened up after his trip and then tell him. _Her decision made, Nancy forced herself to relax as she heard Frank shut off the water and step out of the shower, the sound of his footsteps echoing overhead.

"I thought I smelled something good," Frank murmured appreciatively as he wandered into the kitchen and grabbed Nancy in a deep, comfortable hug.

"I hope you mean me and not the food," Nancy teased jokingly as she returned his hug eagerly, realizing how much she missed him as his lips met hers in a long passionate kiss.

"Of course I meant you, babe," he replied with a sly wink, holding her close for a final hug before grabbing her hand and leading Nancy to the table, taking a seat and pulling her down playfully on top of him.

"I've missed you, so much," Frank declared longingly, his fingers entangled in her hair as he kissed her deeply.

Her arms twined around Frank's neck, Nancy returned his kiss eagerly before tilting her head up at him and gazing at him adoringly. "I've missed you too and I'm so glad you're home," she murmured, resting her head comfortably on his shoulder. "Promise me the next time you won't stay away so long,"

"Promise," Frank replied distractedly as he pulled her closer, his eyes sweeping over her appreciatively. "You look so beautiful, Nan," he whispered urgently, as his fingers deftly unbuttoned her shirt, Nancy moaning in pleasure as he trailed kisses down her neck.

They never made it upstairs.

Afterwards, half-dressed in Frank's shirt and her underwear, Nancy sat on his lap as they shared a plate of the now-dried lasagna.

"I knew there was a reason I missed you," Frank teased her jokingly as he spooned a heaped fork of pasta into her mouth.

"My cooking?" Nancy asked him sweetly, laughing as Frank tickled her in retaliation.

"Nancy, I've suffered your cooking enough times to know that this is most definitely Hannah's handiwork," Frank replied with a laugh, shaking his head knowingly. "And you know, that's not what I meant. How about we grab a bottle of wine, head upstairs and spend the rest of the evening getting reacquainted," he suggested, taking her hand in his and pulling her up gently. "I feel like I haven't talked properly to you in ages and I'm dying to hear all about your case."

"Frank, you know damn well what will happen if we go upstairs." Nancy laughed, rolling her eyes a little as he pulled her up into his arms. "We certainly won't get any talking done."

"And what would be the problem with that?" Frank asked teasingly as he pressed his lips lovingly to hers.

"Absolutely nothing," Nancy agreed with a smile as Frank took her hand warmly in hers and led her up the stairs.

--

Later, lying in the dark, Frank trailed his hand idly over Nancy's bare skin, Nancy relishing in the softness of his touch. The window was open, the room icy cold and Nancy curled closer into the warmth of his body, smiling when his lips found hers in the dark.

"I love you, so much, Nancy," he whispered, the tone of his voice so endearingly sincere.

He was always so gentle, so loving, the perfect boyfriend, and Nancy suddenly didn't know why she had kept her pregnancy a secret for so long. Frank would understand, she was sure of it.

Turning over on her side, Nancy rested her head on her forearm, her blue eyes gazing into his through the darkness.

"Are you okay, Nan?" he asked in concern, reaching out and smoothing a hand gently over her hair.

"I'm fine," Nancy smiled, swallowing her fear as she placed her hand over his. "It's just, I have something to tell you."

The sound of her phone ringing was a sudden unwelcome intrusion into the privacy of the moment.

"Shit, I have to take this," Nancy sighed, seeing the familiar number illuminated on her phone.

"Drew, we need you down here, right now," Derek's voice sounded cheerlessly in her ear as Nancy pulled herself up in the bed and turned on the bedside light. "We have a lead on the Riverside case."

Startled to wakefulness by the news, Nancy hopped off the bed, pulling on her clothes hastily as Frank gazed at her, bemused.

"I guess that thing you need to tell me can wait until later?" he smiled, grabbing Nancy close for a quick kiss as she clumsily buttoned her shirt.

"We'll talk later, I promise," Nancy sighed, dragging a brush through her long hair before running out the door.


	9. Creep

**Hi Guys! In this chapter we are still with Nancy and Frank while the emphasis in the next chapter will shift to Nancy and Ned. I hope everyone enjoys!**

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Bundled up in her warm woolen jacket, Nancy wrapped a soft grey scarf securely around her neck before pulling on her gloves, careful to take every protection she could against the elements outside. Though the snow had lightened to a gentle flurry it was painfully cold, Nancy's breath frozen and hanging in the air, the silvery threads stark against the murky dark of the sky. Shivering furiously, Nancy slid her key into the ignition of her Mustang, the car spluttering in protest at being started under such arctic conditions before shuddering noisily to life. The roads were treacherous, a dangerous combination of ice freezing over the melting snow and Nancy negotiated the short distance to the FBI headquarters carefully, a newscaster on the radio station she seemed permanently tuned into reiterating the same tired warning to avoid all unnecessary travel.

Goose pimples prickled uncomfortably at Nancy as she flashed her badge at the security guard stationed at the door before pushing through the double doors that led into the FBI building. The place was almost deserted, the roaming security personnel shuffling wearily along the corridors the only sign of life, and the effect on Nancy was palpable. Her work as an FBI agent usually evoked a sense of anticipative excitement in Nancy but this case was different. The killer was brutal, his methods sickening and cruel, and Nancy wasn't sure she could stomach further scenes of violence tonight. Already at twelve, the body count was rapidly rising, and Nancy knew the chances of the killer curbing his murderous activities were very slim indeed. Nodding her head in acknowledgement at a passing guard, Nancy tapped in the four digit code needed to gain access to her department before slipping silently into the room, the harsh glare from the overhead florescent lighting indicating that Agent Derek Johnson was already there.

In comparison to the freezing temperatures outside, the heat of the office was positively suffocating and Nancy was impatiently unwinding her scarf from around her neck when the older agent stuck his head around the door of his office and beckoned urgently for her to come inside.

"Agent Drew, I would like you to meet someone," Derek barked, gesturing brusquely at a middle-aged woman who was perched uncomfortably on the edge of a worn leather chair that was pulled up beside Agent Johnson's desk. "This is Eleanor Rush," he continued, motioning at Nancy to sit down before taking a seat himself behind his neatly arranged desk. "She seems to have some interesting information for us on the Riverside killer."

"Okay, Ms. Rush, what can you tell us?" Nancy asked coolly, not holding out much hope as she mentally evaluated the ash-blonde woman sitting before her. Expensively dressed and with perfectly manicured nails, the woman disappointedly brought to mind the band of 'desperate housewives,' as Nancy had disparagingly referred to them. The women, mostly residents of Riverside, had plagued the FBI with their whispering gossip as to the supposed identification of the Riverside killer.

"I saw someone tonight when we were driving home from the airport," the woman began hesitantly, making eye contact with Nancy as she twisted a diamond encrusted wedding band nervously around her finger. "We live on Mulholland Drive and we were almost at our house when I spotted him."

Mulholland Drive was located in Riverside, Nancy realized excitedly, though she said nothing, her weary blue eyes gazing expectantly at the evidently older woman.

"Who did you see?" Nancy demanded coaxingly, sensing the woman's hesitance at revealing further information.

"A boy, well, man now, I suppose," the woman amended hurriedly, shifting uncomfortably in her chair as she met Nancy's expectant gaze. "Anthony Cusack, his name was. He went to school with my daughter about twelve years ago."

"And I'm guessing Anthony wasn't the model pupil," Derek prompted her, his eyes narrowed curiously as he eagerly digested the information.

"That's putting it mildly," Eleanor Rush sighed, shaking her head despairingly as she met Agent Johnson's gaze. "The boy was a nightmare. He stalked my daughter Hailey for months, made her life hell. In the end we were forced to get the authorities involved and when even that didn't work, she ended up having to move in with my sister and attend another school upstate."

"My God, that sounds terrible," Nancy sympathized, trying to imagine how things could have gotten so bad for Hailey, that she had felt forced to leave her friends and family behind. This was evidently no simple case of a typical teenage crush. "How did the stalking begin? Nancy prompted the woman gently as she exchanged a glance with Agent Johnson. He too looked interested, looking eager to learn more about this Anthony Cusack, as though sensing this information might prove central to the case.

"At the start, we just thought it was a harmless schoolboy crush," the older woman shrugged, a glimmer of a smile playing on her lips as she turned her attention to Nancy. "It was just the usual stuff, you know, love letters and Valentines cards and deliveries of flowers. We teased Hailey about it all the time and initially she seemed flattered. To a teenager I suppose, it all seemed terribly romantic."

"And what changed?" Nancy asked curiously, sitting forward in her chair as she eagerly awaited the woman to continue.

"Deliveries of flowers soon turned into late night phone calls, where he'd call the house at all times of the night, hanging up as soon as we'd answer. He took videos of her, photographs too, and he used to post them in the door. By this point, Hailey was understandably terrified and refusing to go to school and when we brought the matter to the school authorities, they told us there was nothing they could do," she shrugged resignedly, sighing deeply as she worked the sparkling ring around her finger again.

"You said you went to the police," Agent Johnson cut in, his expression harried as he ran his fingers through the sparse remains of his thinning hair.

"I did," she murmured in agreement, gazing in frustration at the FBI agent. "But they gave me the same story about lack of evidence and said to come back if I had anything more concrete to offer them. It was hopeless. Hailey eventually went back to school and the school must have spoke with Anthony because he left her alone, at least for a little while."

"A little while," Nancy echoed dully, seeing the anxiety on the Eleanor Rush's face as the woman swallowed heavily, taking a minute to compose herself before continuing.

"We arrived home from a family party one evening and we sensed that something was not quite right. Some photographs were disturbed, the pictures removed from the frames, and the furniture in the living room had been rearranged, as though someone had been there."

A shiver ran up Nancy's spine as she imagined the nightmarish scene the family had stumbled in upon.

"That wasn't the worst of it though," she added shakily, the words coming slowly and hesitantly from her mouth, her voice almost a whisper. "Hailey had a pet springer spaniel called Holly. We'd had her since she was a puppy and to us, Holly was almost like another member of the family." Her voice broke then and Nancy flashed a look of horror at Derek, already dreading what she knew the woman was going to say next.

"We found her on Hailey's bed. The head was almost completely severed. There was blood everywhere," her words trailed away and Nancy could tell she was trying the grisly images from her head. "Well, that was the last straw. Hailey was sent to my sister's house the next day and started school in Arlington the following Monday. We just couldn't take the chance that it would be Hailey next time."

"Did you file a report of the incident with the police," Agent Johnson questioned her curiously looking up from his notebook where he had been scribbling a few notes.

"Yes, with a Detective Gordon, I think," she replied uncertainly. "My husband would have a better memory than I have and anyway, I'm sure we have a copy of the report filed away somewhere. I'll have a look."

"Thanks," Agent Johnson replied abruptly, his expression turning curious as he aimed a questioning glance at the middle-aged woman. "Ms. Rush, if you don't mind me asking, why did you wait so long to bring this information to the authorities?"

"My husband and I've been staying in our villa in Tuscany for the past few weeks so we've been a bit out of touch with what's been going on at home. I almost got sick when I read the reports in the newspaper while we were waiting for our connecting flight in JFK and then when I saw him, skulking around outside our house, something just didn't feel right."

"Do you think he saw you?" Nancy cut in curiously, excitement bubbling up inside of her, knowing they were after making their first important break in the case.

"No," she replied with absolute certainty. "It was dark and I told my husband to keep on driving past the house when I spotted him. We have a completely different car now so I don't think there was any way he could have recognized us. Why do you want to know that?" she asked nervously after a minute as though she suddenly realized the significance of Nancy's questioning.

_Because he's in your house_, Nancy wanted to say, but didn't. Eleanor Rush was rattled enough and the knowledge that her daughter's former stalker was back and using the protective environment of her home as his shelter from the authorities and base for his murderous activities could be enough to finish her off completely.

--

"It might not be him, you know," Derek pointed out warningly as they sat into the standard issue black SUV, the keys jangling noisily from his hand. "Teenage boys can be freaks, Nancy. I was one, remember?" he interjected slyly with a teasing wink. "They get it in their head that they want a particular girl and there's no stopping them."

"He practically cut off a dog's head, Derek, and left it in her bed," Nancy retorted disbelievingly, hating the arrogant manner in which he questioned her judgement and made her feel like an empty-headed little girl.

"Did he?" Derek replied in an annoyingly self-important tone as he turned to risk a look at Nancy. "Show me the report that says that."

"You just heard what Eleanor Rush told us," Nancy insisted, frustration burning in her stomach at his seeming disinterest in pursuing Anthony Cusack.

"Eleanor Rush may have filed a report," Derek murmured in agreement, carefully looking to his left and right as he drove through an intersection. "But Anthony Cusack was never charged in relation to the crime. Therefore in the eyes of the law he's innocent. This is the way things operate in the FBI, Nancy," he shrugged, his smugness infuriating Nancy though a small part of her knew he was right. "Assumptions are based on fact and not on some harebrained notion of what some doting mother tells us. Understand?"

"Yes," Nancy echoed dully, only her respect for the more senior agent stopping her from arguing the point again.

"But despite that fact," Derek continued, his eyes sparkling as he turned to face Nancy. "I was also very convinced by Eleanor Rush's story. Cusack sounds like a maniac and his stalking tendencies and history of animal abuse very much fit in with the profile of our killer. I've requested police back-up and Agents Philips and Reid are on their way."

"So, what's the plan?" Nancy demanded, nervous tension bubbling under her skin at the thought of what the next few hours would bring.

"We wait," Derek replied decisively, his indicator flashing orange as he steered the car onto a quiet tree-lined road. The further they edged their way through the immaculate neighborhood, the bigger and the more salubrious the houses grew, and Nancy knew they were verging on Riverside and Mulholland Drive, where the Rush family lived. "We wait until the other agents show and back up is in place and then we go in and catch the bastard."

"Cusack might not even be there," Nancy pointed out reasonably, pulling her hair into a tight bun and running her fingers over the reassuring outline of her gun in preparation for the events of the night ahead.

"He might not be," Agent Johnson considered for a moment, his forehead furrowed in concentration as he carefully monitored the movements of a red sports car that slowly turned down into Mulholland Drive before driving leisurely away. "But the guy's killed twelve people in as many days and he's bound to need a rest at sometime. I guess, I'm just hoping that sometime is now and we can stop him before he gets the chance to kill anybody else."

--

Passing through the grand wrought-iron gate, Nancy felt prickled by sudden fear, the towering gate their last protection against a possible murderer inside. The temperature had plummeted to well below freezing but Nancy hardly felt it, sheer anticipation of what was to come more than adequate insulation against the harsh cold. Members of the SWAT team had already surrounded the house, their dark uniforms blending in seamlessly with the surrounding inky blackness.

"Ready?" Derek commanded, his voice an urgent whisper as he motioned her to follow him to the door.

The key to a successful operation generally lay in the timing. Give the unsub too early an warning and you run the risk of a counter attack, which could ultimately put lives in danger. But caught off-guard, without the security of their guns and weapons, the unsubs unusually surrendered relatively willingly. There were exceptions, of course, but as Derek had earlier advised her, decision making in the FBI always came back to facts and figures, and the figures seemed to weigh heavily in favor of catching Cusack unprepared.

Nodding in reply, Nancy's gun was angled reassuringly by her side as Derek noiselessly slid the key into the lock, wincing slightly at the soft creak when the door was pushed carefully open. Creeping in over the threshold of the front door, Nancy was immediately struck by the undisturbed nature of the scene. As would be expected, weeks of mail lay heaped in a careful pile under the letterbox and dry cleaning, probably hastily collected on the day they travelled to Italy, still hung on the bottom of the stairs waiting to be replaced in the wardrobe by Eleanor Rush. The floor appeared immaculate, the polished cream tiles unmarred by the footprints one would expect from the unseasonably bad weather Chicago had been experiencing.

Her gun gripped tightly in her hand, Nancy edged her way into the kitchen, again puzzled by the state of the room. The kitchen was gleaming, which was no easy feat considering the glossy surfaces of the ice white doors were highly susceptible to dirty fingermarks. The garbage can stood empty and a quick inspection of the fridge revealed it to be devoid of all food apart from a few standard staples.

_Maybe she was wrong_, Nancy considered as she shut the refrigerator door thoughtfully before proceeding on her routine investigation of the house. The house displayed no evidence whatsoever of being occupied. _Maybe Derek was right earlier when he suggested that she was perhaps too quick to jump to conclusions in her desperation to solve the case. _

In the hall, Derek looked similarly unimpressed with his findings, his body language demonstrating his frustration as he stalked out of what appeared to be the formal dining room, the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling casting a vast swarth of shadows onto the wall.

"Find anything?" he grunted, the agent having seemingly resigned himself to having met yet another dead end in the investigation.

"Nothing," Nancy shrugged in answer, gritting her teeth in frustration at Derek's typically defeatist attitude. "The kitchen is spotless and there's not a scrap of food in the fridge. There's no way Cusack's been using it," she concluded matter-of-factly.

"The living rooms are the same," Agent Johnson informed her with an irritable expression, the FBI agent clearly exasperated with their lack of progress on the case. "They haven't been stepped in since the cleaner finished up. I know Eleanor Rush's story was compelling but this is not what we are looking for. Our guy's not a ghost, Nancy. He's human and human beings leave behind traces of their existence whether they like it or not. If he was here, we'd know it, Drew, we'd see it. But we don't. So what does that tell you?"

"But the Riverside murderer has never left much evidence behind at any scene," Nancy argued, determined to get her point across.

"Nancy, we're both tired," Derek replied dismissively, brushing past her. "Let's finish up the search and get some sleep. God only knows what will be facing us tomorrow. You take upstairs and I'll do the basement and hopefully then, we'll manage at least a few hours' sleep tonight."

Only able to agree, Nancy traipsed wearily towards the grand staircase that dominated much of the hall, secretly relieved to have been relinquished of the duty of searching the basement.

Her gun poised for action and the faint glow from her flashlight guiding the way, Nancy crept up the sweeping staircase, grateful for the carpeted surface that swallowed her footsteps. The walls were lined with photographs of the family, the faces happy and smiling, and Nancy recognized the blonde, blue-eyed teen as Hailey from the photos supplied to them by her mother.

Though Derek's dismissiveness had succeeded in marginally diminishing her fears, nervous tension still tingled uncomfortably on her skin as Nancy ventured along the dimly lit landing. The doors were closed and that was disconcerting, Nancy's mind conjuring up all sorts of hellish images of what lay behind the thick oak.

Her gun aimed threateningly, Nancy placed her hand determinedly on the shining chrome doorknob, only her palm, slick with sweat, betraying her internal terror. Opening the door, Nancy's heart beat wildly, her trepidation put temporarily to rest as the sight of the room with the neatly made bed and the lavender flecked wallpaper met her. The conspicuous lack of clutter and personal possessions led Nancy to believe it was a guest room and a quick inspection of the modest space didn't reveal anything untoward.

Her shoes padding through the deep pile of the luxurious cream carpet, Nancy edged towards the next room with more confidence, though her gun remained steadfastly trained in front of her. Though the walls weren't the typical pinks and purples of a teenage girl's room, Nancy realized from the photographs stuck on the mirror and the vast arrangement of beauty products arranged on the dressing table that it was Hailey Rush's former bedroom she was standing in. A cream comforter was neatly draped across the queen-sized bed, the bed-linen again arranged in perfect order, clearly the efforts of Eleanor's obviously efficient cleaning staff.

Thoughts of her bed and snuggling up with Frank were inviting and after a quick once-over of the adjoining en-suite bathroom, Nancy was already contemplating wearing the pale-blue negligee she knew her boyfriend liked and surprising him with some risque wake-up sex before he would have to rush out the door to work.

"Your partner is a fucking idiot," a voice from behind her jeered, before the cold butt of a gun was pushed against her temple.

Breathless with fear, Nancy's whole body froze as she took in the vague form of a shadow looming behind her.

"Scream and you are dead, bitch. Do you understand me?" he sneered viscously, jerking the gun out of her hand with a violent tug.

Nodding wordlessly, Nancy silently pleaded with Derek to come upstairs and find her. Her breath was catching painfully in her throat and she knew she was fucked.

The blast of the gun was the last thing Nancy heard before she collapsed in a bloody heap on the ground.


	10. Baby Blues

**Hey guys! Thanks for all your encouraging words so far! In this chapter we are back with Nancy/Ned. I hope everyone enjoys!**

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Pushing in the door of the restaurant, a bell hanging over the entrance tinkled her arrival as Nancy slid gratefully into the comforting warmth of the dining room. Candles flickered gently on the tables, a coal fire blazed in the grate and the whole effect was comforting against the inky black of the night that seeped in through the narrow curtained windows. Discovering she was the first to reach the restaurant, Nancy was inwardly glad to take a moment to relax before she would be besieged by her friends. Unbuttoning her coat, Nancy draped it over the back of her chair before she sat gracefully down, picking up the leather bound menu as a matter of course, the action being entirely unnecessary as the girls knew the short choice of dishes off by heart.

"Hey, Nan."

Hearing the familiar chorus of voices, an eager smile spread across Nancy's face as she looked up to see her friends approaching the table. Fashion conscious as ever, Bess tottered across the wooden floor in heels, a miraculous achievement considering the streets were like glass outside. Following her was a rather more sensible George, the girl wearing heavy boots and blowing fiercely into her hands, presumably to warm them.

"What the hell is going on with the weather?" George grumbled discontentedly as she unzipped her coat and slid into the booth across from Nancy. "I feel like hibernating and not reemerging until all this goddamn snow has cleared. It's really messing with my training for the marathon next month."

"I know," Bess nodded in complete agreement, her blonde curls bobbing up and down in unison. "I so wasn't expecting this. I just spent a fortune on these gorgeous Louboutin shoes and they are going to be so last season by the time I'm going to get to wear them."

Shooting a look of disgust at her cousin, George shrugged out of her heavy winter jacket before turning her attention to Nancy. "Well, how does it feel to be finally released from Alcatraz?" she demanded jokingly, her comments echoing Nancy's previous comparisons between her job at Mc Kenzie and Baker and a convict serving a life sentence in prison.

"Good, I mean fantastic," she amended hurriedly, plastering a smile across her face as the waitress carefully poured wine into their glasses, Nancy eyeing her glass to make sure the dark-haired waitress was not too heavy handed when she was pouring the red liquid into hers.

The meeting between the friends was to serve as a celebration of sorts, Nancy having finally finished out her days at Mc Kenzie and Baker, and Bess and George always eager for any excuse to get together, no matter how frivolous the affair. Now free of her obligation to the firm, Nancy had to admit she didn't feel as excited as she should have felt. Not that that was a surprise. When Nancy had imagined leaving her internship in the law firm, she had envisioned embarking out on her lifelong dream of training to be an FBI agent. The notion of her becoming pregnant in the interim had never even figured in, and for good reason; the mere thought of her turning up in Quantico cradling a five-month-pregnant belly was laughable.

"The training you will be doing sounds insane," George commented as she eagerly dug her fork into the mountain of stir-fried vegetables in front of her.

"I know," Nancy replied with forced enthusiasm, taking a guilty sip of her wine. "But I've been running most mornings and training in the gym, so I should be fine. At least, I hope so," she shrugged, hating lying to her friends and hoping Bess wouldn't comment on her rapidly reddening cheeks.

"You're in great shape, Nan," George murmured encouragingly, spearing a chunk of red pepper and bringing it to her lips. "If only someone else would take even a fraction of your interest in going to the gym. You know, Bess refused to come spinning with me on Monday night, when we'd made the arrangement weeks ago."

"Gossip Girl was on," Bess replied defensively, Nancy smothering her laughter at the look of absolute indignation on Bess's face. "George, when you can find us a class that is not on a Monday night, I would be more than willing to go. In fact, I'm sure I'd love it."

"There's a class on Tuesday night," George shot back smugly, winking slyly at Nancy before turning to her cousin. "So I guess I can count you in then."

A look of horror crossed Bess's face at the suggestion, but she nodded mutely, knowing she was defeated. "Can't wait," she sang out mockingly as she drained the end of her glass of wine, excitement suddenly lighting up her eyes. "I've just had the best idea," she declared, pouring herself a generous glass of wine before turning to Nancy and George. "The girls at work were just telling me about this great club that has opened up in town. Jenny's boyfriend is a part-owner, or something," she explained dismissively, her face shining with excitement as she took an eager sip of her wine. "Anyway, we should go there. They're supposed to have the best cocktails. It would be so much fun."

The thought of going clubbing and the web of lies she would have to spin to explain the uncharacteristic lack of an alcoholic drink in her hand was more than Nancy could handle right then, and she was just trying to come up with a convincing scenario in her head when thankfully George stepped in and her saved her.

"Sorry guys, but I've got a tennis match in the morning and I'll need a clear head. Feel free to go ahead without me, though," she assured them airily, taking a long drink from her glass of water before turning her attention to the mountain of stir-fried vegetables still heaped in front of her.

"What about you, Nan?" Bess demanded excitedly, turning to her friend with an expectant look. "We could get all dressed up, get Ned to drop us in. It would be so much fun."

"It wouldn't be the same without George," Nancy replied lamely, hoping Bess wouldn't press the issue. "Maybe we could reschedule for next weekend or something?"

"I suppose you're right," Bess allowed grudgingly, spooning the last of her lasagna into her mouth. "I guess I need to start packing for Paris, anyway."

"You're going to Paris," George echoed her cousin's remark in astonishment as she took a delicate sip from still full glass of wine. "When did all this happen?"

"Yesterday," Bess bubbled back in excitement as she twisted a blonde curl around her finger. "Bloomingdales want me to preview the summer line of clothes. Apparently Clare pulled out at the last minute so they asked me to go instead. Can you believe it?"

As Bess regaled the girls with her plans for the week she would spend in Paris, Nancy instinctively rested a hand against her still flat stomach, inwardly marveling at the knowledge that inside her belly, her and Ned's baby was slowly growing. The initial gut-wrenching fear that had consumed her every time she even thought about the pregnancy had slowly subsided and though she still had reservations about the prospect of motherhood, Nancy had to grudgingly admit she was slowly warming to the idea.

Not that she had any choice, she told herself wryly. The baby would be here in six months whether she was ready or not and no amount of wishing that things had turned out differently would change that.

"Nancy, have you listened to a single word I've said?"

Startled by her friend's words, Nancy looked up, Bess and George looking at her in thorough amusement.

"We were just saying that we should order some champagne, to celebrate you finishing up your job and more importantly," she thrilled, batting her long eyelashes dramatically, "to start getting me used to all the champagne I'll be drinking in Paris, which hopefully will be in the company of some gorgeous French guy," she added as an afterthought, her eyes lighting up at the prospect.

Eyeing her now almost-empty wine glass with some guilt, Nancy shook her head regretfully. "Bess, I think I'll pass on the champagne for now but you go ahead. I wouldn't want to deny you the head-start on the champagne-drinking practice you'll need to keep up with all those models."

Placing her desert fork delicately on her plate, Bess eyed Nancy curiously. "You're not up for dancing and you're not drinking. If I didn't know how allergic you are to babies, I would almost say you were pregnant."

The teasing expression on Bess's face instantly disappeared when she saw Nancy's reaction. "Oh my God. You're pregnant, aren't you?"

"I could be," Nancy lied, when the truth was that she was almost three months pregnant, Nancy tracing back the date of conception to the night of Ned's Christmas party and the following morning when, hungover, she'd emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet and presumably her pill as well. "I'm not sure," she was quick to emphasize, hating for her friends to learn the news of her pregnancy before Ned. "Ned doesn't know," she added warningly, the remark aimed mostly at Bess, who was known for her complete and utter inability to keep a secret from anyone.

"This is brilliant news, isn't it?" Bess questioned her friend uncertainly before exchanging a concerned expression with her cousin. "Ned will be over the moon."

"How is it, Bess?" Nancy demanded wearily, running her fingers distractedly through her long red-blonde hair. "I'm due to start training in a couple of weeks and there's no way I can do that pregnant."

"But can't you defer the acceptance until after you've had the baby?" George cut in, gazing at Nancy with sympathetic eyes. "Maybe finally take up Edith on all those offers of babysitting?"

"But it wouldn't really be babysitting, would it?" Nancy offered quietly, distractedly pushing the tired remains of her salad around the plate. "Training takes twenty weeks and could you imagine the look on Edith's face if I had the baby, handed it over to her and then said I was heading off to Quantico to train as an FBI agent and I'd see her in a few months and she could ring Ned if there were any problems. She'd probably think I'd completely lost it." Nancy was unable to resist breaking into laughter at the bemused look on her friend's faces. "You know, I don't know why I'm talking to you both about this. It's not like I'm definitely pregnant or anything,"

"Take a test, Nan," Bess advised her seriously, resting her hand on her arm and gazing at her in concern. "If you're pregnant, I will help you design the cutest nursery ever and if you're not, I will totally expect your presence in Club Zero on Friday night. No excuses accepted,"

"You're impossible, Bess," Nancy sighed, though a smile broke across her face as she rummaged in her bag for her purse to pay her portion of the bill.

--

Stepping wearily out of the cab, Nancy's boots crunched through the snow, her footprints leaving a neat trail behind her as, key in hand, she treaded eagerly up to the front door. Warmed by the alcohol, Nancy was already mentally anticipating a night spent at home with her husband. She might even risk a second glass of wine; the baby book she had guiltily flicked through had practically encouraged the practice, she convinced herself dubiously as she pushed the door open, surprised to find the living room empty and the television not blaring the usual football game from the television.

"Hey babe, I'm home," Nancy called out, shrugging out of her coat and draping it over the banister of the stairs before shaking out the layer of loose snowflakes that had settled on her hair.

Nancy could hear the sound of the shower running overhead and, wandering into the sitting room, she collapsed gratefully onto the sofa, relishing the almost suffocating warmth of the house that spread throughout her body, slowly defrosting her frozen limbs. Reaching wearily for the remote, Nancy switched on the television, flicking methodically through the channels droning out the usual Friday night forced fun entertainment until she reached Channel Four news. Nancy was instantly transfixed as the camera zoomed in unnecessarily on a pair of body bags being removed from a house.

Like most of the residents of Chicago, Nancy had been following the series of Riverside murders with a mixed sense of both awe and fear. The yellow tape stretched outside the house, the flashing blue lights of the police cars, and the dozens of uniformed police officers traipsing through the frosted garden of the house all conjured up a nightmarish image of the blood drenched chaos that had awaited the teenaged friends when they had innocently arrived on the scene, expecting a party but finding the bloodied remains of their friends instead.

"Hey babe," Ned greeted her in surprise, wandering over to the sofa and pressing a kiss against her lips. "What are you doing home so early? I thought you were heading out with the girls."

Distracted, Nancy could only nod, her attention completely focused on the newscaster on the screen relaying the horrific events of the day.

"Nan?" Ned tried again, his expression patient as he took a seat on the sofa beside her and rested an arm lightly around her shoulder.

As the news report momentarily broke for commercials, Nancy turned to glance softly at her husband, reveling momentarily in the familiar scent of his aftershave as she melted into his arms. "You didn't need to go to all this trouble for me, babe," she joked lovingly as she traced a finger along his freshly shaved face. "Not that I'm complaining. Maybe we can have an early night. Bring a bottle of wine to bed," she hinted seductively, bringing her lips to his and kissing him deeply.

"Yeah about that, Nan," Ned winced uncomfortably. "You said you were meeting the girls tonight so I've kind of made plans with the guys. Play some cards, that kind of thing. Fuck, I wish I'd said nothing now. Maybe I'll just ring Mike and cancel," he muttered uncertainly, his eyes lingering on the ample display of cleavage Nancy was displaying.

"Don't," Nancy insisted, knowing how hard Ned had worked in recent weeks and how little time he'd spent with his friends. "You never see the guys anymore. You deserve to have some fun. Just don't be too late, okay?"

Still looking a little undecided, Ned shoved his phone into his pocket before pulling Nancy into a warm hug. "Are you sure, Nan?" he murmured, his lips warm against hers as he kissed her softly.

"Totally," she smiled brightly, pressing her lips softly against his for a final time before pushing him playfully towards the door.

--

Hours later, Nancy lay contentedly in bed, staring numbly at the snowflakes that drifted lazily through the open window. The air was bitterly cold and, snuggled under the warmth of her heavy layer of blankets, the effect was comforting.

Ned would be delighted with the news, Nancy knew. It had always surprised her how good her husband was with friends' babies, considering the lack of experience he had had with children himself. Where most men would shy away from talk of babies, Ned had always responded eagerly.

It would be all right, Nancy concluded with false optimism, her happiness fading a little at the thoughts of having to forfeit her future career with the FBI for days spent at home with a baby.

But the baby might be a boy, Nancy considered happily, a smile playing across her face at the thought of giving birth to a baby son that Ned could play baseball with and talk football with the second the child was old enough to understand or even before, Nancy imagined with a grin, tucking the blankets tightly under her chin.

Turning on to her side, Nancy gazed sleepily at the blinking red of the alarm clock and noticed it was almost three o' clock.

Ned will be home soon and I'll tell him then, Nancy decided, struggling to keep her eyes open as the accumulation of weeks of sleepless night were finally wreaking havoc on her.

Snuggling deeply into the blankets, Nancy's eyes drooped slowly closed and by the time the clock reached three, she had already fallen fast asleep.

--

Light streaming into the room alerted Nancy to the fact that something wasn't quite right as she slowly roused herself to consciousness, the space in the bed normally occupied by her husband cold and empty.

_Ned,_ she thought blearily, pulling herself up in the bed, clutching the blanket protectively around her bare skin, the open window exposing her to the bitter morning air.

Grabbing her cell phone, Nancy punched in the digits, groaning in annoyance as the phone bleated back the same monotonous ringtone before finally breaking into voicemail.

_Pick up, babe, _she thought frantically, pressing the redial button and almost breaking down into tears as the call yet again broke into voicemail.

Ned wasn't like most of the other guys her friends complained about. He was considerate and sweet and would never stay out all night without at least contacting her.

_Something must have happened to him, _Nancy decided immediately as she reached instinctively to turn on the radio, her cell still clutched in her hand.

The newscaster reeled out the latest developments on the cheerleader murders from the previous day and that at least was comforting, the human side of Nancy failing but to be affected by the grisly violence of the Riverside murderer.

Pressing determinedly on the redial button again, Nancy's heart almost stopped in relief as her husband's familiar tones drifted blearily down the phone.

"What's wrong, Nan," he answered sleepily, Ned obviously completely unaware as she was overcome by a sudden burst of rage.

"What's wrong, Ned," Nancy shot back hotly hating the whining tone that had suddenly and inexplicably crept into her voice. "What's wrong, is that my husband somehow completely forgot to come home last night. I was almost out of my mind worrying about you. Where the hell are you, anyway?"

"Still at Mike's," Ned replied sheepishly. "Look Nan, I know you don't want to hear this but we all drank way too much last night and I ended up staying in the guest room. I know I should have called you. I'm so sorry, babe," he added with heartfelt sincerity and Nancy had to almost instruct herself not to forgive her husband on the spot at the almost pathetic level of remorse in his voice.

"Look, Ned, I've made arrangements to spend the day with Bess," Nancy replied in clipped tones, commanding herself to retain control over her already frayed emotions. "I'll see you later."

"But I'll be home in a minute, Nan," Ned pleaded and Nancy closed her eyes, afraid what would come out of her mouth if she'd dared respond.

Sliding her phone shut, Nancy banged the hard plastic onto the bedside table, dressing quickly before stomping out of the house, pulling the front door out forcefully behind her.


	11. Secrets and Lies

**Thanks to ulstergirl, my amazing beta, for taking the time to look over this for me! Much appreciated!**

**Also, thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review. Again, much appreciated! Now, on with the story!**

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**"Are you okay?" Rubbing at her eyes blearily, Bess appeared wearily at the door, her pink robe tied loosely around her hips. Ever conscientious about her appearance, Bess nearly always displayed a full face of make-up and a perfectly coordinated outfit, and she looked younger somehow standing there, her long blonde hair trailing untidily over her shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, Bess, I wouldn't have disturbed you if I thought you would still be asleep," Nancy murmured in apology, following her friend into the darkened apartment, all the blinds and curtains tightly drawn, displaying Bess's determination at keeping even the tiniest hint of daylight out.

"It's nine o' clock on a Saturday morning. What the hell did you think I'd be doing?"

"Shopping," Nancy replied sweetly, tentatively holding out a folded paper bag of still warm muffins as a peace offering. Bess was not known for her morning cheer, though her weakness for sugar and chocolate meant she was easily swayed by a baked good or two. "You always say that Saturday is sacred shopping time."

"I doubt shops even open this early," Bess responded grumpily, but a smile softened her face just the same. "Now that I'm awake, I might as well put on the kettle."

Wandering through the cosy living room, Nancy had to blink. Piles of clothes and shoes were heaped and scattered haphazardly around the floor. A bloated make-up bag overflowed out onto the kitchen table; bottles of foundation and eyeshadow palates were scattered among the pair of hair straighteners and the hefty hair dryer Bess was presumably taking as well.

"Are you planning on making the move to Paris permanent?" she joked, pitying the baggage handlers at the airport.

"No, why?" she asked, confusion crossing her pretty face as she poured milk into a steaming mug of coffee for Nancy.

"No reason," Nancy replied innocently as she accepted the steaming cup of coffee. Caffeine was the one drug she hadn't been totally able to quit.

Comfortably untidy, Bess's apartment was filled with just the right amount of clutter to make the place feel homely and warm without making it appear overcrowded. The pink painted walls were plastered with photographs of family and friends, and the scuffed leather sofa was strewn with a multitude of pink and cream patterned cushions.

Dragging a brush impatiently through her sleep tangled lengths of hair, Bess turned to Nancy curiously. "Not that I don't love seeing you, Nan but why are you here, anyway? You sounded kind of upset on the phone earlier."

Pushing some of the cushions aside to make room on the sofa, Nancy sat gracefully down, crossing her long stockinged legs and sighing as Bess looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to begin.

"Stupid husband stayed out all night and never fucking rang me."

The words tumbled out of Nancy's mouth in one fluid rush and Bess could see the frustration in her friend's face that had obviously nothing to do with Ned's late night.

"He should have rang you, Nancy," Bess agreed reasonably, breaking off a miniscule piece of her blueberry muffin and nibbling at it delicately, the crumbs scattering wildly all over the floor. "But you know what guys are like when they drink. Useless," she concluded knowingly, rolling her eyes in a display of superiority. "Ned probably lost his phone, dropped it down the toilet or something. Anyway, what's the big deal? He's back, isn't he?"

"Yes, but that's not the point, Bess," Nancy sighed in exasperation, needing her friend to indulge her and listen in complete agreement while she vented furiously about her husband. Which was ridiculous, really, considering that what she was doing to Ned was infinitely worse than any series of late night parties he could possibly have.

"Well, what is the point, Nancy?" Bess demanded grouchily, the effects of her early waking already starting to weigh on her. "If I told you two years ago that you would come crying to me about your husband staying out late, you would have laughed. So out with it. We both know that there is more going on here than you just being pissed with Ned over a night's partying."

Sighing heavily, Nancy replaced her mug of coffee on the table before turning to her friend hesitantly. "I didn't tell you the whole truth yesterday when I said I might be pregnant," Nancy winced, twisting her fingers uncomfortably on her lap as she forced the words out of her mouth. "I'm actually just over three months pregnant. The baby will be here at the end of September."

"You're serious?" Bess spluttered in shock, dusting stray muffin crumbs off her fingers as she crossed the room to give Nancy a hesitant congratulatory hug. "That's great news."

"But why haven't you told Ned?" Bess questioned her in surprise, taking a seat on the sofa next to Nancy and pulling her legs up under her. "Are you worried he won't take the news well or something?"

"No, the opposite. I knew he'd be delighted and once I told him, that would be it."

Nancy felt almost embarrassed, explaining to Bess why she had kept the pregnancy a secret for so long. _What the hell was wrong with her? This was a good thing. She was married to a wonderful husband and they had a fantastic life together and the baby would be just another addition to that perfection. She should be fucking delighted. Smiling twenty four seven. But the truth was, she wasn't. _

She could see her thoughts echoed in Bess's face and Nancy felt instantly uncomfortable.

"This is about the FBI, isn't it?" Bess prompted her knowingly, reaching for a cushion and pressing it comfortingly to her chest.

"Yes. I'm a horrible person, I know," Nancy admitted, tears prickling at her eyes at the memory of her unfair treatment of Ned that morning. "I can't stop thinking about all the things I'm going to miss out on when I have the baby. And it's not just the FBI, it's everything. This baby is going to completely change our lives and I don't think I'm ready to deal with that."

"Nancy, you don't have a choice. The baby is coming whether you're ready or not," Bess sighed quietly, gazing at her friend with sympathy. "And I know you're afraid of all the things that are going to change for you and Ned but some of these things are going to be good. My god, Nan, you and Ned are going to have a baby. Are you not just the tiniest bit excited?"

"Sometimes," Nancy admitted grudgingly, though she did allow a small smile cross her face. "Ned will be the greatest father and I suppose, having a baby can't be all bad."

"You see, you're working those maternal instincts already," Bess joked, wrapping an arm warmly around her friend's shoulders. Nancy always seemed to be so together, so in control of herself, and it was a bit of a shock to see her so lost.

Nancy didn't look completely convinced, but she forced a smile just the same, turning to Bess with a twinkle in her eyes. "Well, it's good to know I can rely on you, Bess. When the baby arrives, I guess if me and Ned a holiday to get over the stress of parenthood, or whatever, we'll know where to leave the baby."

The look of horror on Bess' face was priceless and forced a chuckle from Nancy's lips, though the new fear of relaying the news of her pregnancy to Ned was never far from her mind.

"I don't really do the whole baby thing, Nan." Bess shuddered visibly, clutching her pillow even tighter towards her chest, as though the action would shield her from the threat of Nancy's proclamation. "A night's babysitting, maybe, but really anything more than a few hours is not happening."

"Bess, thanks so much for this," Nancy murmured gently to her friend after a pause, the mood suddenly turning serious. "I feel better than I have in weeks. I should have come to you about this ages ago."

"Damn right you should have," Bess quipped jovially in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I'm like goddamn Doctor Phil or something. I should be charging you people. Now, how about some breakfast, Nan? All this Dr. Phil stuff has left me seriously starving. I think I have some eggs in the fridge."

Nancy hadn't eaten a meal in weeks without the food sticking uncomfortably in her stomach, but now, she felt inexplicably freed.

"Do you think you could do one of those amazing omelettes like you did last time?" Nancy pleaded with a wide-eyed expression, her stomach grumbling in anticipation of some much needed food. Nancy never bothered much with cooking; her rare attempts at making anything even remotely complicated usually resulted in a sad mess resembling anything but the glossy photograph in the cookbook. Bess, however, worked miracles in the kitchen. Nancy often was left staring at her friend in astonishment at the dishes she managed to concoct out of a few basic ingredients. "Please, Bess. You can't deny a pregnant woman food, it's inhumane."

"I'm not Hannah," Bess retorted with mock annoyance, though she headed to the kitchen all the same, humming some vaguely recognizable song as she noisily rummaged through the fridge for the necessary ingredients.

Left alone with her thoughts, Nancy sipped absently at the cold remains of her coffee as she mulled over her conversation with Bess. _It will be okay, _she realized, her mood somewhat brighter as she slid her empty mug onto the table.

---

It was late afternoon by the time Nancy finally brought herself to go home. The sky was already darkening, bringing with it the plummeting temperatures Chicago had become accustomed to over the previous weeks. The snow had been steadily falling all day, and was even now drifting down gently, the glistening flakes settling lightly in Nancy's hair as she rummaged in her bag for keys. Her fingers twisted tightly around the hard metal, Nancy was suddenly gripped with an overwhelming feeling of doubt and indecision, her earlier optimism about her capabilities as a mother dissipated. When she was talking to Bess earlier, it had all seemed so easy, so plausible. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Ned practically ran out to meet her the second he heard her key turn in the lock.

"Nancy, I'm so sorry, babe, I was an asshole. You were right to be mad at me. I swear to God it will never happen again."

That was the thing Nancy loved about Ned; his absolute determination to right a situation even if his responsibility in the cause of it was negligible in comparison to Nancy's previous fuck-ups.

A victim of both their heavy workloads, the house was generally untidy by at least Edith's standards, their clothes left heaped in the laundry baskets, shoes left strewn untidily by the door and junk mail left to pile up on the hall table for weeks before Nancy finally summoned up the energy to sort and file it. But today, the house was spotless, she noted in happy surprise; a delicious smell of food wafted from the kitchen.

"Nan, I'm so sorry," Ned tried again, reaching out tentatively and pulling her into his arms, Nancy resisting for only a moment before reciprocating his affection eagerly. "What can I do to make it up to you?" he murmured teasingly, obviously sensing her thaw, his breath grazing her ear as he pressed his lips against her neck.

"I think you know," Nancy managed with difficulty, her eyes squeezed shut in anticipation as Ned impatiently pulled open the buttons of her shirt, his lips warm on her skin.

The last button undone, Nancy's black bra blazoned from the now open shirt, Ned's fingers trailing longingly over the expanse of bare skin. Their eyes met and something in her husband's expression rendered Nancy speechless.

"I love you, so much," she whispered, taking his hand in hers and dragging him towards the stairs. "And I'm going to show you just how much," she promised enticingly, a mischievous glint in her eyes as Ned grabbed her and kissed her hard.

--

The room was shrouded in darkness when Nancy finally woke up, her head nestled comfortably against Ned's chest. Rubbing her eyes groggily, Nancy gently disentangled herself from Ned's arms and, glancing at the illuminated face of her cell phone, realized it was almost three o' clock in the morning.

_Not surprising_, Nancy thought smugly, a warm glow surging through her at the memory of the very thoroughly satisfying love making session with her husband.

Hearing Ned stir quietly beside her, Nancy nestled back beneath the cocoon of blankets, into the warmth of his arms.

"Hey, you," Ned murmured sleepily, reaching out and tracing a hand affectionately over her cheek.

"Hey, you," Nancy replied affectionately, pressing her lips against his. At her advances, Ned responded eagerly despite his sleepy state, pushing Nancy down gently onto their bed and kissing her longingly.

"Wow, we really tired ourselves out, huh," he murmured lovingly, his fingers already creeping beneath her skimpy nightgown. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Three o' clock," Nancy uttered through tightly squeezed lips, moaning softly as he impatiently pushed her down onto the bed and kissed her heatedly.

"Are you up for a repeat performance and maybe some of that dinner?" he murmured softly and despite herself, Nancy couldn't help but laugh, hearing the enthusiasm in his voice. Ned always did love his food.

Afterwards, still basking in the afterglow of their love making, Nancy turned to face Ned, adoration radiating from her face

"You're amazing, you know that?" she prompted him softly, edging a little further into the warmth of his embrace as she moved to kiss him softly.

Tightening his hold on her, Ned kissed her heatedly in response, his fingers trailing down the length of her back. "I love you, so much," he murmured, his fingers warm against her skin.

Swallowing hard, Nancy raised her head to face his resolutely, her blue eyes peering into his intently. "Ned, I'm pregnant."

His fingers entangled in her red-blonde hair, Ned stopped suddenly as though in shock, his eyes peering into hers. "You're having a baby? Our baby," he corrected, as though to him himself, his expression transforming as the reality of the news sank in.

"Yes," Nancy admitted, unable to stop the tears prickling at her eyes as an expression of what could only be described as utter joy crossed Ned's face.

"My God, Nan, this is brilliant news," he enthused, pulling Nancy into his arms and holding her close. "Brilliant news," he continued, a tone close to reverence creeping into his voice. "You never even told me you suspected you might be pregnant. When did you find out?"

"Two months ago," Nancy had to admit, the words almost choking her as she forced them out.

Ned had been idly running his fingers along the bare skin of Nancy's arm but at her reply he stopped short, staring into her eyes as though unable to believe what she had just said.

"Two months." Ned uttered the words quietly to himself as though taking a chance to consider the information silently to himself. "Two whole months. Why didn't you tell me?"

Ned's tone was more perplexed than angry, but Nancy was sure it wouldn't be long before the old, familiar anger crept in.

"I don't know," Nancy shrugged helplessly, tears burning in her eyes as she lowered her gaze to the floor. "I don't fucking know, okay?"

Ned's anger, which had been quietly bubbling under the surface, suddenly came forcefully to a head. "I can't believe what I'm hearing," he spat out heatedly, his frustration evident in every word. "How can I think you give a shit about us when you treat me like this, like I don't even matter?"

The tears flowing freely down her cheeks, Nancy turned to Ned, horror on her face at the unspeakable pain she knew she was causing him. "I do care about you, Ned. How can you say that?" she uttered, reaching out to rest her fingers gently on his skin, her voice breaking as he pushed her hand forcefully away.

"Nancy, you lied to me every day for the past two months when you knew and didn't bother telling me. How do you think that makes me feel? How can I ever trust you again, about anything?"

His tone was cold and distant, and as he turned away from her in the bed, Nancy felt sick. _What the fuck had she done?_

Panicking, Nancy kicked her way out of the thick layer of blankets and, struggling to her feet, pulled on the clothes she had so hastily discarded on the floor when Ned was so desperate to get her into bed.

_Could that really have been only a few hours ago? The way things were now between them, it could have been years._

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Ned demanded coldly, sitting up in the bed and glaring at her furiously. "We need to talk about this."

Her breath caught in her throat, Nancy only sighed in response. "Look, Ned, I need time to think. I need to get away from here," she finally brought herself to say, her keys enclosed in her fist as she practically ran toward the bedroom door.

"Don't be stupid, Nancy, it's freezing out there," Ned pleaded with her, the coldness in his voice tempered by concern.

Shrugging as though to say she didn't care, Nancy stalked out of the house, never looking back once.

Outside, the world was swathed in a falling veil of snow. Sliding her key into the car door, Nancy could hardly see through her tears. When she had imagined telling Ned about the pregnancy, it hadn't been anything like this.

_Of course Ned was right, _she considered dully, pulling away from the curb with unwise speed, considering the condition of the road. _She should have told him months ago. She was a terrible wife. God only knew what kind of a mother she'd make. A terrible one, she was sure._

Visibility was poor as Nancy distractedly negotiated the glimmering ice-glazed roads, the sky deathly black, not even a glimmer of light from the moon or stars allowed through. All the weather stations had forecast a blizzard and as a consequence the roads were unnervingly quiet, people with evidently far more sense than Nancy heeding the almost constant warnings on the radio to avoid unnecessary travel. Making away her slowly through streets of impressive stately homes, Nancy's mind was racing. _What the hell was she even doing out here; it was crazy to be out in these conditions. She should go back home, talk to Ned and sort things out. He never stayed mad at her for long anyway, _she considered with measured sigh, making a careful turn onto another street of similarly beautiful homes, the trees lining the sidewalk, dusted with a heavy frosting of gleaming white.

Her mind so consumed with her conflicted thoughts about the fight with Ned, Nancy hardly knew what she was doing, but her attention was momentarily distracted by a blur of blue flashing lights emerging from the hazy darkness.

_It must be an accident_, Nancy decided dully, not surprised considering the dangerous driving conditions.

Making the decision to slow down, Nancy brought her car almost to a crawl, when an almost blinding white light came hurtling through the thick darkness, startling her.

"What the hell," she exclaimed, startled, turning the wheel violently in an effort to avoid the inevitable collision, but it was too late. What followed was a terrific explosion of sound and then nothing, as Nancy lapsed into unconsciousness.


	12. The Long Night

**Sorry for the massive delay in updating Doubt:) Life has been crazy. I hope I still have a few readers left, considering it's been months since I've posted the last chapter!**

**Enjoy!**

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Opening the door of the darkened bedroom a crack and peering silently through, Maria Carter couldn't help but smile at the endearing sight of her son sprawled spreadeagled across the bed. His wrist hanging limply over the side of the bed, Ethan's hand still clung on possessively to the beloved teddybear that the little boy rarely allowed himself to become separated from. Resisting the urge to plant a loving kiss on her son's head, Maria instead pulled the blue striped comforter gently under his chin.

"Sleep well, baby," she whispered softly, about to place the bedraggled teddybear on the pillow beside the warmth of his chubby cheeks, when the air was suddenly filled with the sound of a terrific explosion.

Her heart pounding furiously, Maria crept towards the curtains, terrified of what she would find if she dared look out. Risking a glance at her son, the woman was gratified to see that he had barely stirred. Ethan simply turned over on his side, his thumb shoved comfortingly in his mouth, and resumed his night's sleep.

Tugging nervously at the heavy silk drapes, Maria almost dropped to her knees, seeing the undeniable carnage outside. The two cars now smoking silently on the street had been reduced to a mass of twisted, distorted metal. One of them had smashed into the Gibson backyard, dragging the white picket fence over a flash of color that once was Glenda's immaculate rose bed. The other car, a silver sedan, was lying on its side on the road and the ominous silence that now hung in the air was a million times more frightening than the crash that she had heard seconds before.

Making quickly for the door, her footsteps swallowed by the soft carpet, Maria pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.

"What is your emergency?" a female voice drawled patiently, the second Maria dialed 911 clumsily into the phone. Through the large bay window in her hall, Maria could see the darkened houses along the street come to life, lights flickering on as people pulled themselves sleepily from their beds to observe the chaos outside.

"There's been a two vehicle car accident on 1256 Mulholland Drive," Maria informed the operator shakily, her words falling on top of one another. "Send an ambulance immediately and the fire department, I guess. Both cars are smoking pretty badly."

Sliding her cellphone shut, Maria slipped it with shaking fingers into the pockets of her faded running pants. Ever glamorous, with perfectly coiffed hair and immaculate make-up, Maria normally wouldn't be seen dead in her current bedraggled state. Now, though, it hardly mattered. Running down the stairs, Maria raced out the front door, into the almost suffocating darkness of the night.

* * *

The front door had barely slammed shut with a resounding thud before Ned was up and out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans that were slung untidily on the back of the chair. Pulling the curtains roughly open, he cursed inwardly, seeing the snow drift heavily down. The roads would be like sheets of ice and certainly not ideal for driving on, especially considering the emotional state Nancy had been in when she had left.

Grabbing his car keys, Ned made for the door, an icy blast of wind penetrating through his heavy clothes the second he stepped outside.

"Damn, it's cold," he murmured irritably, sliding his key into the lock and throwing the car door open.

Pulling away hastily from the curb, Ned's tires screeched angrily as he rounded a corner. Nancy couldn't have left more than a few minutes before but that might as well have been an eternity, considering he had no idea which way she'd gone.

_Where are you, Nancy? _ Ned wondered desperately, making the decision to head south towards the city. It was possible that Nancy had headed straight for Bess's apartment to vent all her frustrations at her best friend. Of course, she also could have made the journey home to River Heights or gone to stay with George. The furious anger that had consumed him only minutes before had vanished, and now all Ned could feel was worry and bitter regret.

_This is all my fault._ _I shouldn't have gotten so angry with her, _Ned berated himself unhappily as he reached for his cell phone that was lying on the passenger seat. Trying to concentrate on the road ahead, Ned punched in the number of Nancy's cell, his stomach turning unpleasantly as the call went straight through to voicemail. George's phone yielded a similar result and Ned almost collapsed with relief when Bess's sleepy voice came over the phone.

"Ned Nickerson, it is almost four o'clock in the morning. What the hell do you want?"

Ned didn't even bother trying to explain himself. "Is Nancy with you?" he demanded brusquely, his efforts at trying to maintain a safe speed completely unsuccessful.

"I haven't seen Nancy since she left to go home at about six o' clock. Why?" Bess asked, sensing immediately that something was wrong. "Everything is okay, isn't it?"

"Not really," Ned sighed, speeding through an intersection to avoid getting stuck at a red light. "Me and Nancy had a huge fight and she just took off in the car."

"In this weather," Bess cut in wearily and Ned could hear the worry in her voice. "I'll kill her. Tell her that for me, when you find her. It must be below twenty outside."

"Look, Bess, I better go," Ned declared distractedly, impatiently passing a car that was crawling along the road in front of him. "Call me if you hear anything, okay?"

"Will do," Bess sighed wearily, tossing her cellphone dejectedly onto the bed before heading into the kitchen to start some coffee. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

"Where the hell did he go?" Agent Derek Johnson snarled as their SUV sped along the deserted road, the night air aglow with the blue and red flashing lights of the police cruisers in front of them. The snow was coming down furiously now, the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the vengeful blasts of white.

Months of grueling investigation into the brutal murderer, unhelpfully dubbed the Riverside Killer by the media, had come down to this. A seemingly innocuous tip from a middle-aged woman had resulted in the FBI stumbling upon Anthony Cusack's hideout. Bloodied knives that matched the murder weapons had been uncovered in a plastic bag in the backyard. Evelyn West's driver's license had been found lying idly on the kitchen table and blood stained clothes were found tossed in the garbage. Cusack had fled on foot before stealing a neighbor's car and speeding along the darkened stretch of road with the FBI and a police cruiser in hot pursuit.

"The suspect's vehicle is making a left turn at the intersection of Mulholland and West," a female voice crackled over the radio, prompting a rare smile to cross Derek Johnson's face.

"This is it, guys. We finally have him," Derek hissed delightedly, punching a hand into the air. The tires on the SUV screeched in protest as he made the left turn onto Mulholland, his blue eyes narrowing curiously at the sight that lay in front of them.

"What the hell is going on?" he mumbled uncertainly, looking to the young FBI agent that sat beside him. "Someone tell me we haven't lost the sonofabitch."

"It looks a wreck," Agent Brandon replied, trying to make sense of the scene, though the falling snow against pitch black rendered the task almost impossible.

"Suspect's down," the voice again came over the radio and Derek sighed audibly in relief. "He has been involved in an accident with another car on the intersection of Mulholland and Cedar Grove. It looks pretty bad. We're just arriving on the scene now."

"Radio emergency services and call for back-up. We'll be there in a minute," Derek bellowed into the radio before putting his foot down firmly on the gas.

* * *

A police cruiser was just appearing on the scene, the wail of its siren hanging ominously in the air as Maria Carter crunched through the heavy blanket of snow. The cold was almost suffocating as she raced towards the cars, her breath coming out in short, panicked gasps.

Maria had some basic medical training, her job as a sports instructor in a local gym making it a necessity. A sprained ankle, she could deal with; a grazed knee belonging to one of the kids racing boisterously around the pool, Maria could manage just fine. But this. This was a little out of her realm of experience, Maria thought shakily as she peered through the cracked side window of the crumpled sedan.

"May the Lord have mercy on him," she murmured under her breath, realizing immediately that the man splayed lifelessly against the dashboard, his body crushed beneath the car seat, was already dead. The man's blood was smeared across the windshield, his eyes staring dully ahead.

Maria whispered a hushed prayer before regaining her composure and starting towards the other car. It was blue and appeared to be a sports car, but in truth, the car was such a mangled mess of metal that it was almost impossible to ascertain anything else.

"Ma'am, we need you to stay clear of the scene, please."

Peering around, Maria could see a portly police officer making his way towards her, a flashlight beaming in his hand. "Go back inside your house and I'll send a police officer in to speak with you shortly."

Hearing the faint wail of the ambulances screeching ominously in the distance, Maria nodded uncertainly at the police officer before trudging back up the steps wearily into her house.

The snowfall was starting mercifully to lighten as Agent Johnson made his way over to where a police officer was inspecting the crumpled remains of the car Cusack had stolen, the glow from his flashlight cutting through the night. The scene was a chaotic mess; the cars had been reduced to piles of twisted metal, leaving glass shards strewn all over the road.

"Please tell me we have him," Derek demanded gruffly, treading carefully over the asphalt, the streets already rendered gleaming sheets of ice.

The police officer looked up from the car and nodded shortly. "Cusack's dead," he muttered with a shrug before making his way over to the ambulance that was just arriving on the scene.

Of course, a doctor would have to confirm that fact, but kneeling on the cold hard ground and peering in through the cracked windshield, Derek could see the man's stiff, lifeless form and knew instantly that he hadn't survived.

"What about the other vehicle?" Derek demanded then, his attention already turning to the mangled mess of blue metal lying on its roof in the neighboring backyard. A team of paramedics were hovering impatiently in the background, while a firefighter was cutting through the blue metal of the car, the angry whirr of the saw only adding to the chaos of the night.

"The sole occupant of the car is a female caucasian. She's in a pretty bad shape," the man continued with a solemn shake of his head. "Poor lady. Looks like she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Aren't they always?" Derek agreed sadly.

* * *

A vague tinge of blue was just coloring the sky as Ned drove wearily through yet another dimly lit street, the glow of lights from the houses an unwelcome reminder that it was almost morning and he still hadn't found Nancy. Her phone was going straight to voicemail and Ned wanted to scream every time he dialed Nancy's number and was greeted by the same generic recording. It was infuriating.

Thoughts of their baby comforted him and warmed him as he continued to trawl through the streets searching for any sign of his wife. Though she was a little apprehensive now, Ned knew that Nancy would be a fantastic mother once the baby was born. Sure, it would take a little adjusting, but with the support of Hannah and his mother, Ned was confident everything would be fine. They would take their baby on vacations to the beach and build sandcastles and splash around in the water and of course, she would have the same bright blue eyes and golden blonde hair as her mother. (In the back of his mind, Ned had already decided that their baby was going to be a little girl.)

Somewhere between imagining the football games he would play with their daughter out in the garden and the pet dog she would surely want, Ned's phone rang.

"Nancy," he sighed in relief, answering the phone with impatient speed. "I was so worried about you. Where are you?"

"Ned Nickerson?"

Hearing the unfamiliar voice instead of Nancy's soft tones, Ned's stomach dropped.

"Speaking," he managed with difficulty, swerving the car clumsily to the side of the road.

The two second pause that elapsed before the man continued was torture and allowed Ned to mentally concoct all sorts of hellish scenarios.

"This is Officer Davis speaking. I'm afraid your wife has been involved in a two vehicle accident over on Mullholland Drive."

"But she's okay, right?" Ned demanded insistently, not allowing himself to believe otherwise, even for a single second.

"I'm afraid not, sir," the voice replied solemnly. At his words, Ned's chest constricted, his lungs burning as he struggled to catch his breath. "Your wife died at the scene. She was already dead by the time the paramedics arrived and unfortunately there was nothing they could do for her."

The words reaching Ned as though through a hazy fog, he barely reacted.

"But she's okay, right?" he repeated, the words echoing comfortingly in his head.

"Sir, I'm afraid she's dead."

The man's words were so final and direct, that it was only then that realization started to dawn on Ned.

The phone dropped silently out of his hand as he stared dully ahead.


	13. Hell

**I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who took the time to read and review the last chapter:) Your words of encouragement made me smile!**

**Also, thank you to my beta, ulstergirl for all her hard work!**

**Enjoy:)**

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Her eyes gloriously heavy, Nancy could hear noises float lazily in the background. There was a definite sense of chaos, of hushed concerned voices, and the muted screams of sirens wailing in the air. Nancy hardly cared. She had some vague notion that she should be feeling pain, but she felt nothing; her mind drifted hazily between consciousness and the frightening blackness that came to claim her, no matter how much she struggled to stay awake.

There were the sounds of footsteps, heavy on the stairs, and then a pair of hands working their way delicately over her skin. Nancy was fascinated by the coolness of fingertips through thin latex gloves.

"She's alive, but barely," a voice murmured softly. The fingers were now entangled in her sticky, oozing scalp, examining flesh that was raw and tender. "Her pulse is thready and she's lost a lot of blood."

_Derek, _she thought then, suddenly seized by panic at the memory of the cool butt of the gun pressed against her head. Her blue eyes popping open, she tried to say something, tried to verbalize concern about her partner, but the words remained frustratedly choked in her throat.

"Relax, ma'am," a different voice spoke this time, his breath warm on her face as he gently tugged up the sleeve of her shirt.

The sharp jab of a needle into her upper arm was the last thing Nancy remembered feeling before she lapsed into unconsciousness.

* * *

The next time Nancy woke up, she was aware of a dull pain throbbing unrelentingly inside her head. For a minute, she fumbled to make some sense of her surroundings. The cool press of the sheet against her skin and the heavy antiseptic scent in the air indicated that she was in a hospital.

_What the hell happened? _she wondered, her mind a delirious mess of hazy images. Nancy remembered the sound of gunshot and an explosion of pain as she had fallen heavily onto the ground. Blood had been sticky on her fingers and sticky on her face, warm red pooling around her head as she had struggled to cling to consciousness.

A steady beeping was emanating from some corner of the room. Nancy was painfully aware of its presence, each pulse of sound piercing through her brain as though they were knives.

_Make it stop, _she pleaded inwardly, her eyes seemingly glued together shut.

There was some knowledge at the back of her head, something that she couldn't quite make sense of, something that nagged at the back of her mind.

The room was dark and she could hear some hushed voices from the hallways outside. She wanted to call out, needing desperately for someone to help make sense of the confused swirl of thoughts in her head.

The words though seemed choked in her throat and before Nancy could summon enough strength to call for someone, she lapsed back into unconsciousness again.

* * *

The baby. The tiny life growing inside her stomach was Nancy's sole thought as she dragged herself from the almost suffocating darkness. Her eyes flickering painfully open, she immediately shut them again in response to the almost blinding light.

_Oh God, the baby_, she agonized, panic threatening to overwhelm her as she realized the hospital had no idea she was pregnant. She was pumped with medication, Nancy knew, she had to be, since the vague, fuzzy pain that throbbed in her head was completely disproportionate to what she should be feeling.

Don't drink. Don't smoke. Unpasteurized cheese is the devil incarnate.

Sitting in Dr. Barton's office, Nancy had struggled to maintain a straight face as the gynecologist reeled off an impressive list of all the what not to do's of pregnancy. If Dr. Barton had her way, Nancy was certain she wouldn't be allowed to leave her house until she had safely given birth to her baby.

Dr. Barton hadn't mentioned it at the time, but the heavy doses of painkillers being fed into Nancy's system sounded a lot more toxic than the innocuous papaya she had been instructed not to eat.

"What happened?" she rasped, her voice barely audible, her blue eyes focusing on a familiar figure slumped on the uncomfortable plastic seat beside her, his hand resting lightly over hers.

"Nancy, you're awake. Thank God. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Nancy shrugged wearily, closing her eyes momentarily to relieve the blinding pain that throbbed behind her eyes when she tried to speak. Her mouth felt dry, as though it was tightly packed with cotton wool, and Nancy suddenly yearned for a glass of water, though the effort of having to search for the right words rendered the request entirely impossible.

Frank looked like hell.

Since his job demanded long hours and grueling conditions, Frank Hardy was no stranger to sleep deprivation. He commonly arrived home after working for seven days straight, with only a few snatched hours of sleep in the interim; pressing his lips to Nancy's briefly, he would usually head straight upstairs to their bedroom and pass out for twelve hours or more. Dark shadows would be smudged under his eyes, his face bearing the result of days of not shaving. This was different, a different kind of exhaustion that Nancy was certain a full night of sleep would remedy.

"I'm really glad you're okay."

Frank looked like he was going to bend over and kiss her, but instead he straightened up and cleared his throat.

"I suppose I'd better get the doctor, Nan. They told me to tell them the second you woke up."

The doctor was a middle-aged man whose attempts at disguising his growing baldness included a meticulous combover. "You are a very lucky young lady, Ms Drew," he informed her soberly, picking up her chart and flicking purposefully through the pages. "The bullet merely grazed your skull. You lost quite a lot of blood but the wound was stitched up and you should be as right as rain in another few days. How are you feeling?"

"Thirsty," Nancy admitted. "But other than that, okay, I guess," she mumbled, swallowing heavily. "My head is a bit achy but that's to be expected, I suppose."

"I will get the nurse to give you something for the pain and then you should really try to get some sleep," he encouraged her, his gloved fingers moving tenderly over the side of her head.

"You too," he aimed at Frank with a stern nod. "You know, this man hasn't budged from your bedside in the two days since you were admitted. Go home and get some rest and that's an order."

When the doctor finally left the room, Frank opened his mouth, as though he was going to say something, but then he stopped, reaching out to take Nancy's hand in his instead.

"I was so worried about you," he murmured, his eyes filled with agony as he squeezed her hand tightly.

"I'm fine," Nancy assured him, though the weakness of her voice betrayed her. "You know me, Frank. I'm not some girly girl whose idea of being hurt is tripping on her high heels on a Saturday night. I'm used to this. Being shot at is nothing new for me. You heard the doctor, I'll be as good as new in a couple of days and back on the job as though nothing happened."

A quietness descended between the pair then, and Nancy closed her eyes wearily, comforted by the feel of Frank's hand warm over hers.

"Frank, you should really go home and try to get some rest," Nancy mumbled softly. "I appreciate you staying but I'm fine now and you're going to make yourself sick, if you don't get some rest and eat some real food."

Frank looked as though he was about to disagree.

"Please, Frank, for me," Nancy implored, her eyes closing again in exhaustion.

Left alone with her thoughts, fear and panic started mounting again in Nancy as her hand came to rest instinctively on her stomach. She could feel nothing. In the past week she had cursed the constant fluttering of butterflies in her stomach, which her doctor had explained was just the baby moving. Nancy had found the sensation, along with the persistent nausea, to be exhausting. Now she would do anything to feel it again.

"How are you feeling, honey? Dr. Connor just informed me you were awake and experiencing some pain."

Looking up, Nancy saw a weary-faced nurse enter the room, her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. Picking up Nancy's chart from the end of the bed, her blue eyes scanned the information while she kept up a steady patter of conversation, the woman barely stopping to draw a breath.

"There's been no thaw outside," the nurse sighed, shaking her head in annoyance as she examined the drip taped to Nancy's hand. "You're just taking your life in your hands getting in your car every morning and don't get me started on the traffic."

Nancy barely heard her. Her stomach knotted in nervous dread, she forced herself to ask the one question she wasn't sure she wanted answered.

"My baby is okay, right?" Nancy demanded worriedly, bringing the nurse's conversation to a nervous halt. "It's just, I'm four months pregnant and when I was talking to the doctor, he didn't mention anything at all about the baby."

The nurse didn't need to answer the question. The look in her eyes said it all.

Busying herself with preparing Nancy's medication, the nurse forced a sympathetic smile and glanced at her watch. "Ms. Drew, the doctor will be with you in a few minutes and he will be able to answer any queries you have."

* * *

Nancy cried herself to sleep. Her dreams were filled with nightmarish images of screaming babies and Cusack squeezing the trigger of a gun he held to her head. There was blood and inexplicably fire, the flames licking at Nancy's skin as she stood rigid waiting for the explosion of gunshot. Her head pounded furiously and when Nancy finally opened her eyes, her stomach plummeted in nausea and dread.

"You're okay, Nancy. I'm here," Frank's voice sounded comfortingly from beside her, his hand warm over hers.

Nodding tightly, Nancy brought a hand to her face and started to swipe the tears from her damp cheeks. "I'm okay," she agreed, swallowing heavily before another fresh wave of tears started coursing down her face.

"No, you're not," Frank murmured, wrapping an arm gently around her shoulders and pulling her close. "The doctor told me you know about the miscarriage."

At his words, Nancy broke down in heartwrenching sobs before she stubbornly rubbed the tears away. "Sorry," she murmured in a choked voice, tears still coursing down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it's okay, Nan. You don't need to hide what you're feeling in front of me. My God, I'm just grateful that you're alive. It's not your fault that you miscarried. You didn't even know you were pregnant."

Frank's voice was choked with emotion and his brown eyes were glistening with unshed tears, but he managed to maintain his composure all the same. Probably didn't want to make her any more upset, Nancy realized guiltily, the weight of his arm around her shoulders making her feel suddenly horribly claustrophobic.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't lie to him.

"You don't understand, Frank," Nancy sighed, her face tearstained and miserable. "This is all my fault."

"Of course it's not your fault," Frank murmured soothingly, smoothing a hand over her cheek. "Cusack shot you. He could have killed you. How is that your fault?"

Telling Frank she concealed her pregnancy could very well mean the end of their relationship. How could he possibly want to stay with someone who could lie to him so easily?

But the prospect of not telling him, of carrying on with this lie, was unthinkable.

"I've known I was pregnant for weeks, Frank," Nancy admitted in a small voice, forcing herself to meet Frank's gaze. The look of shock in his brown eyes was heartbreaking. "So, you see, it is my fault because if I'd informed work about my pregnancy, like I should have, there's no way I would have been in that house with Cusack and this would never have happened."

"You knew you were pregnant," Frank cut in, the expression on his face shifting as the realization of her deception started to sink in. "But why didn't you tell me? Didn't you feel like you could confide in me?" he demanded, and Nancy could see that he was starting to doubt himself.

"Is it something I said or did? I mean, why did you think you couldn't come to me about this? I would have been happy about it, you know. Maybe a little shocked to begin with, but I would have been absolutely delighted."

"I'm sorry, Frank but it was a big shock and I was absolutely terrified. Telling you would make it real and I just wasn't ready. It has nothing to do with you."

"But then why?" Frank implored, his brown eyes pleading for some sort of explanation.

Nancy was crying openly now, tears spilling down her face, and Frank just stared ahead of him in shock, as though he couldn't quite comprehend what he was hearing.

"Nancy, you were almost five months into your pregnancy. Didn't you think I'd find out when you went into labor and just suddenly arrived home with a baby one day? When the hell were you going to tell me?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly, her heart plummeting as Frank withdrew his hand from hers and gazed stonily ahead.

She could tell Frank she had been planning to tell him a million times; during every phone call they had shared in the past few weeks, Nancy lying sprawled out on their bed twirling a lock of hair nervously around her fingers. During the dinner date they had shared the previous week, Nancy feigning an early morning meeting to excuse her from sharing their usual bottle of wine. There had been a million different times Nancy had so wanted to share with Frank the news of her pregnancy, but the point was, she hadn't.

"God, I know I fucked up, Frank, and there's nothing I can do ever make it up to you. But you've got to know I'm sorry and that I love you," Nancy murmured desperately, suddenly terrified she was going to lose him. "Right?" she pleaded, reaching for his hand.

"'Sorry' is not going to fix this, Nancy. How can I ever trust you again? I'm sorry but I can't be with you right now."

"Don't go," Nancy pleaded, though inwardly she knew it was too little, too late.

Frank didn't even bothering answering her. Standing up, he stalked out of the room without looking back.


End file.
